


Westchester Café

by fkbunnyclub



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Charles Being Concerned, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik thinks Charles needs to be protected, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Its so obvious Charles is Professor X, M/M, Not Beta Read, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fkbunnyclub/pseuds/fkbunnyclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lensherr is Magneto; second most powerful mutant, president of Genosha and constantly pining over the adorable waiter slash baker Charles Xavier at Westchester Café. He's also the self declared rival of Professor X; the most powerful mutant, and Genosha's mysterious wealthy benefactor, who no one has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My cherik feelings are all over the place.They're such an adorable couple and I'm a sucker for cute couples (Destiel!!!!). Here's another fluff, because I think Erik taking care of Charles is 100% canon and freaking too cute for this planet.

_Blackout Cake_

 

Erik Lensherr was the most powerful mutant in Genosha and quite possibly, in the whole world. He was its cofounder, known to both the mutant and human crowds as Magneto, the metallokinetic. He’d shown the humans the extent of his powers when he’d been able to avert a war by manipulating the nuclear warheads away from Genosha in the earlier days, when the mutants had been slowly building the country for themselves. This had cemented his supremacy. He’d even established most of the government as it contained most of his team members. Not to mention that many of his team members were the strongest mutants. There was no challenging his position as number one.

Then he’d started hearing of a Professor X. Apparently this X had pulled some impressive strings to acquire the island for mutants and had helped the infrastructure of the country. He’d also heard that this Professor X was the one who had brought in Hank McCoy, Ororo Munroe, Scott Summers, and the insufferable Logan Howlett for the government. This Professor X was rumored to be more powerful than his Emma and Jean. Erik had been positively baffled at the enormous public backing this supposed strongest mutant had. For Pete’s sake, no one had even seen the man.

Erik knew he had to get to the bottom of this.

\---

“Well Erik, I don't think it’s just a rumor,” Emma frowned at him. “This Professor seems to be everywhere. I’ve tried to locate him, but no one who’s met him remembers a face or a person clearly. They just know. It’s actually quite confusing.”

Erik grits his teeth.

“They just know? What if this is just a mind controller?” he asks Emma. Mind controllers are pretty easy to deal with, Jean was more than enough to bring them in.

Emma rolls her eyes at him. “Sweetie, even I can deal with a mind controller. Maybe this is the work of a much larger group?”

That made sense. A group of people combining their powers to make it seem like there was a singularly powerful person for the sake of uniting the mutant public.

“Even if it was a larger group, they really aren’t doing anything wrong. If anything,” Mystique made her way to the sofa in the room, plopping down. “They’ve improved our image and relations with human governments are better than ever.”

“Then why doesn’t this Professor ever show his face?” Erik exclaimed. “Why is he hiding?”

“Well dear, you don't seem to like him at all,” Emma started. “The last few press meetings have made that very clear.”

“It’s not like I don't like him,” Erik protested. “I just wish he or they would make their intentions clear.”

“It’s not like they haven’t. “ Mystique argued.

Honestly, whose side where these two on, thought Erik. They were supposed to help him for lord’s sake, not dump all the work on this Professor. He glared at the two women on the sofa. It was really too bad that he needed these two. Maybe Azazel and gambit would have a different view.

They all met later on the day for lunch. It was customary to have a group lunch when there wasn’t anything important to discuss with the rest of the government. Erik rather liked this, seeing as he could observe the people the Professor had sent him. He hadn’t made much progress, seeing as they all would band together and leave him out of the talk. Erik was reduced to a bystander during these lunches, but it gave him ample opportunity to observe and spy.

Today’s topic was Professor X and Erik was delighted. He would squeal if he could, but he was Magneto to the other people, so he kept quiet and paid rapt attention to the argument. Perhaps the Professor’s contributions to the government of Genosha would speak their views on the man.

“Really?” said Hank, one of Professor’s earliest contributions. He was fiercely loyal to his group and vehemently opinionated about the way Erik handled issues. “The professor only wants to avoid conflict. And I think he’s been doing a damn good job so far.”

Emma scoffed. “But many of the humans still despise us, so I wouldn’t call it a complete success.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Logan snapped. Erik really hated that creature. No tact, no patience, and you couldn’t even kill it. “We’re supposed to be the excellent government that deals with this shit in a way that makes everyone like us. You’re fucking it all up with your stupid press conferences and the way you act at meetings.”

Erik grimaced. It wasn’t his fault that the humans were stupid. Honestly, they thought they could lie to him and cheat him when he had a telepath. Honestly, plastic guns? The chairs and tables always had enough metal to kill them all. Erik thought they acted like teenagers, brash and without thought. It wasn’t his fault he treated them the same.

“I agree,” said Mystique. “Magneto hasn’t been on his best behavior these last few months. But maybe it’s because the Professor’s actions are unnerving. We just want to know if we have an enemy in this man or an ally.”

“Not exactly an ally,” Scott spoke from next to Jean. Erik wanted to throw him across the room and away from Jean. What if the stupid idiot converted her into a mindless minion of the Professor’s? Erik couldn’t risk that, Jean was too strong to lose. “We think you shouldn’t go around scaring the humans then expect them not to get their defenses up. It’s kind of stupid really.”

“I can see that, but they could be plotting behind our backs.” Mystique rebuked and Erik felt proud, finally some cons of the Professor’s strategy were coming out.

“Listen kid,” Logan sighed. “If something was up, there’s no way the Professor wouldn’t know.”

Erik really wants to see how the idiot can recover from being impaled by all the butter knives and forks. How powerful was this Professor that his minions weren’t bothered by the idea of a unexpected attack?

\---

Logan comes in a few days later with news of a small-scale attack by the humans on a community near the water. When Erik asks him how he knows this, Logan says the Professor told him. When Erik asks Logan how the Professor knows this, Logan eyes him like the answer is obvious and says, “He’s the Professor.” Erik barely holds back from killing him.

They all prepare for the attack, which is scheduled to happen right at four. Tea time, Erik thinks. He hates missing his tea. The attack, says Logan, is a few submarines with foot soldiers sent to capture mutants for study. Erik feels blind rage at the word ‘study’. Like hell he was going to let the humans succeed. He decides to call on more mutants than he had planned to take with him.

The seaside community is small and is full of mutants with water and air abilities. There are also a few defense mutants posted that join them on the defense as well. Erik thinks they are well prepared, so does Mystique. They lie in wait for the ambush, hidden from sight.

 _It’s almost time,_ Emma alerts him.

Erik took a deep breath and calmed himself. He was Magneto now, cold, ruthless, and all-powerful. He would protect Genosha with all he had and kill each and every one of the unsuspecting humans if it meant keeping his country safe.

He feels the first submarine approaching the surface.

They come from everywhere. The humans emerge with stupid plastic pistols but Erik uses the metal from the fences nearby to kill many of the first wave and create a shield for himself. Jean draws out the other submarines from the sea and deposits them on the land, effectively rendering the humans stranded. Logan is knocking out human after human. It’s a K.O. for the humans Erik thinks proudly, even as the second wave rises from the waves.

Hank has designed a serum to knock out the humans for days and he’s putting out humans left and right. Scott and Storm are working on a barrier that protects the houses from the beach battle. There are more humans now, much more than Erik had anticipated. Erik wants to kill them all rather than let them get to Genosha.

 _Erik, they’ve got Angel!_ Emma calls out to him.

Then he realizes how stupid he’d been. He'd brought forth mutants of his own for the humans to take for study. He has to get to Angel, he has to prevent them from taking any of his men in addition to not entering the city, he thinks. He should have just gone on defense rather than attacking, Erik laments.

Emma, tell Howlett to retrieve Angel, he projects, and tell the other who aren’t exceptional fighters to go on defense.

Erik hurls rods of metal from the fence into several unsuspecting soldiers.

The beach is now stained red from the blood. There are many human casualties, however hard Logan and the Professors minions are trying not to kill. Erik doesn’t understand where the humans are coming from; he can't sense any metal in the ocean. When he a fourth wave rises from the ocean, he calls out desperately to Emma.

 _We can't hold them off,_ he projects to Emma. Erik doesn’t know what to do.

He continues to ward off the previous waves humans, but his metal shield is full of plastic bullets and is starting to give. Just as it shatters, all the humans on the beach freeze.

Erik sees all of them stop and is in awe.

A submarine’s top slowly rises from the water and there is a person on top, projecting a shield around it. Erik realizes that the shield must have been why he couldn’t sense the sub. The mutant on top cancels the shield with a fluid hand motion. Then he floats to the beach and collapses in front of McCoy. Erik grits his teeth and holds back from killing the traitorous mutant. The humans on the beach make their way back to the last sub as if they were being controlled; slowly and without any emotion. Erik would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit afraid of whoever was doing this.

As the submarine disappears under the water, Erik relaxes and tracks it until it is too far to do any damage. Emma tells him no one has been taken. He has sent the rest of those who helped in defending the beach back for treatment and rest while he goes in search of a place to eat with the rest of the cabinet members. He really wants his tea.

Erik spots a small café, not far from the beach community. It looks comfy, filled with books and plush couches instead of chairs at the back and out front there is far too much greenery that actually goes well with its latte colored vintage theme. It’s called Westchester and Erik thinks it’s a poncy name for a café. Mystique, Emma, Howlett and McCoy had decided to tag along, so they’re forced to take the couches at the back of the café.

Logan is currently arguing with Emma. Erik doesn’t like having those two in the same room; they had a profound hatred of each other. He doesn’t like interfering with their fights either, he doesn’t want to die yet, thank you very much.

“He said a small scale attack!” Emma snaps at Logan.

“It was small scale, lady.” Logan says. “You were too busy killing to notice that they barely had any weapons.”

Hank nods. “They weren’t trying to kill any of us either. I think they were just trying to get test subjects, which by the way, they nearly did.” He glared at Erik.

“If I hadn’t brought the back up, we would’ve all been the test subjects.” Erik says dryly. He refuses to feel guilty. There had been far too many humans for that to be a small-scale attack, and he thinks he has acted accordingly.

“Hello!” a voice interrupts them. “Welcome to Westchester Café, would you like to order now?”

Erik wants to snap at this man for interrupting their conversation, but he wants his tea. He also can't believe they’ve had to wait this long for service. Yes, he knows the café is crowded, but he’s Magneto for lord’s sake, he’s the president. Erik decides he’s going to be as rude as he can to the waiter.

This is his plan, until he actually sees the waiter himself. The rude comment about showing some respect to the president doesn’t come out, stuck somewhere in his throat as his brain processes the striking man in front of him.

The waiter has wavy brown hair and a fair complexion that highlighted the blush splayed across his cheek. Erik was astounded. He was also very very fascinated in the brilliant blue puppy eyes the man was unconsciously making at him.

“He’ll have the black tea, dear.” Emma orders for him and the waiter turns away from.

Erik then hears snickering, which he knows is from Logan, so he closes his mouth and turns away from the waiter. Mystique is frowning at him and Erik pretends to study the menu to avoid her too. Why can't he admire someone in peace? Moon over, he thinks with a grimace. It wasn’t his fault really, the waiter looked like a cherub, hair tousled like that and pink lips all worried. Erik is a little shocked that he’s noticed all that. A president, he reminds himself, that’s what I am. It won't do him any good falling for any mutant that isn’t strong.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from admiring the waiter’s ass as he walks away with their orders.

“Really, Erik?” Emma asks him, clearly amused.

Erik only grunts. He regrets not focusing on the nametag.

“Charles is quite lovely, I must admit,” Emma continues. “I think he must have a heat related ability.”

Erik thinks the name Charles is perfect for the waiter and soundlessly mouths it, loving the way it rolls off his tongue. He tries it again a few times, eyeing said waiter, but stops when he sees Emma smiling fondly at him.

The waiter is back with their drinks, and sets the black tea in front of Erik delicately.

“Thank you,” Erik says and senses the others are shocked. Erik glares at them, he’s not rude all the time.

The waiter smiles at him. “I'm Charles,” he introduces himself with a smile that Erik thinks is far too dazzling. “Would you like something to eat as well? I recommend the blackout cake, it’s my favorite for this cool weather!” he continues in a cheery manner that draws Erik in and erases some of miserable mood.

“I’ll try it then,” he answers. How bad could the blackout cake be?

Charles beams at him, jotting down his order. Mystique orders apple pie and Emma takes her signature angel cake. Erik is fascinated by the fact that Charles is so cheery servicing others.  He continues to watch the waiter, oblivious to the conversation going between the members of his cabinet.

Charles bounds back to their table with their orders sooner than last time, and places the blackout cake in front of Erik. He doesn’t leave however, after setting the cakes in front of their respective customers, but waits. Erik realizes that Charles is waiting for his verdict on the pastry.

He takes the spoon and slowly scoops out a piece of the cake. The cake is colored a dark blackish brown and covered with chocolate crumbs, and as soon as the spoon cuts into the cake, rich and warm chocolate pudding spills forth slowly. The aroma is divine, and Erik savors the bite.

“It’s wonderful,” he tells a worried Charles, and the man breaks out into a squeal. Erik finds it all too adorable. “Did you make this?”

Charles nods, his curly hair bouncing lightly. “It was just an experiment you see,” he explains eagerly. “But many people found it too heavy. I was going to take off the menu if you didn’t like too.”

The cake is a masterpiece. Anything Charles made would obviously be a masterpiece, Erik thinks absentmindedly. He thinks Charles’s cake has ruined all other chocolate cakes for him. The man is still talking animatedly about the blackout cake when Erik focuses on him again.

“Charles,” he calls and the waiter turns to him. “Can I take a piece to go?”

The waiter slash baker smiles at him in awe. He says, “Of course you can, dear friend,” and practically skips away.

Erik chuckles at his enthusiasm.

Someone coughs beside him and Erik’s mood is suddenly ruined. He was president! People should respect him more. If wanted to drool over Charles, he was going to, cabinet members be damned.

“That tiny thing?” questions Logan, and Erik scowls.

“It’s not illegal to like someone,” Erik spits out.

“Last I checked, you were president of Genosha and most wanted number one in several human countries,” Hank tells him. “Charles seems like a low level mutant. You don't even like those.”

Erik snorts. “I never said that.”

Mystique raises her eyebrows at him. “Your actions say otherwise.”

“I respect all mutants.” Erik is really annoyed at this point. He really likes Charles, and doesn’t want him to hear this conversation. Erik didn’t really like a lot of people, and his disdain for low level mutants came from the fact that he couldn’t protect them and they couldn’t protect him or themselves. He was public enemy number one in many places, so he couldn’t go around dating low-level mutants either. “Now can you all leave me alone?”

Everyone is finishing up when the adorable thing comes their way with a bag in his hands that Erik assumes has his cake. When he reaches the table, he puts down the bill and hands Erik the bag. Erik smiles at him and nods his head in thanks and Charles blushes cutely.

Emma and the others are outside, getting inside a government vehicle they had called for while eating. Erik stay back to pay the bill. Charles comes by again just as he is doing so.

“Mr. President?” Charles addresses him and Erik blinks.

“It’s just Erik.” He tells Charles. Erik really wants to hear his name from Charles’ mouth and in that accent of his.

“Erik then,” Charles is blushing again and Erik thanks God for creating this man. “I always experiment, so when you drop by again, please do ask for me.”

“I won't let any one else take your place then,” Erik tells him and is amused by how flustered Charles get. “I’ll drop by soon.”

With that, he exits the café, wondering how a much more flustered Charles would look like, seeing as he’d left quite a generous tip.  

Erik grinned, shark teeth and all. He was definitely coming back tomorrow, minus the Cabinet members. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually researched cakes for this can you believe it. ALSO I've fallen in love with Fassbender after watching Shame and oh my god, all other movie sex scenes are spoiled for me LOL. Anyway, here's another chapter of barf inducing fluff!!!

_lemon bombe_

 

The entire car ride back to the president’s estate is insufferable. Emma decides to drown him in information she’s gleaned from reading Charles’ mind. She goes on and on about what a complete cutie Charles is and how hard he’s worked for this café. She also tells him Charles has a minor mutation; he’s apparently a projector, enabling him to project thoughts and images to others and that too within a diminished range. Erik thinks the mutation is prefect for running a café.

Mystique eyes him strangely, as if she can't believe Erik has taken an interest in the waiter that isn’t all fuck-and-dump. Logan and Hank simply disregard him and talk about the attack. Erik ignores everyone in favor of reminiscing about Charles and cradles the cake packet in his arms carefully. He was going back tomorrow, even if the café was rather far away. He had Azazel after all.

\---

“A small scale attack?” Emma is angry. “There were so many of them sweetie, and we couldn’t even sense the last sub.”

“Yeah, look, it wasn’t small scale in the number, but they weren’t out to kill us all, right?” Erik only rolls his eyes at the attempt to defend the Professor’s intel. Logan was such a devout follower. Sometimes Erik thought Logan liked this X guy a little too much. All of his minions were fiercely overprotective of him, now if only he could get his Cabinet to respect him the same way he lamented.

“Howlett,” Erik called out, catching the Wolverine’s attention. “Ask the Professor to be more specific next time, I don't want any more complications.”

Logan scowls at the authoritative tone that Erik is using on him, but nods anyways.

Erik then turns to McCoy. “I want you to find out what we can do about those plastic guns. Check up on the recovering mutants with Mystique and report back regarding the damage to our troops.” He dismisses them with a wave of his hand.

Now only Emma and Logan are left.

“Howlett, you’re going to meet Summers and work out a good offensive strategy that won't endanger any of the fighters.”

That leaves Emma, who Erik has a rather special task for. He’s tired of playing around with the Professor.

“I need you to check up on the Professor. If he or they are the ones who pulled the freeze and control move on the beach, then they’re a lot more powerful than any of us,” Erik is troubled by the fact that entire troops of humans could be controlled and each of the humans could be controlled to perform specific and different tasks. That showed the control the mutants had over their abilities and the range itself was astounding. The submarine had gone too far even for Erik’s own power to track, but continued the course under the mind control. This kind of concentrated power was one to be wary of. “Find him. Use anything and everything we have. I won't harm him, but I want to meet him. I want to see and judge for myself. My cause could use him, if his opinions are otherwise, I need to make sure he is not a threat.”

Emma nods once in acceptance of the order and leaves Erik to his thoughts.

His thoughts for once, are not about the Professor, but about Charles.

Granted, Charles was somewhat weak, but he had also piqued Erik’s interest. This was highly unusual. Erik did not care for people other than his Cabinet members, and less so, lower level mutants. Charles must have a secondary mutation that made him irresistible, Erik decided. He planned on going to Westchester Café again tomorrow. Charles had told him that he would always experiment, and Erik wanted to taste everything the man made. At least the prospect of delicious cake served by an angel would make the presidential duties doable.

\---

Erik is very tired the next day when tea time comes along. The ambush had left in its aftermath many wounded mutants, a tower of paperwork and several meetings with human governments regarding treaties and mistreatment of mutants. Erik groans his way through every event in his itinerary. After it is all done, he freshens up a little before he calls Azazel to his office and tells him to drop him at Westchester Café.

Azazel drops Erik on the street, a little away from the café and maintains a small amount of distance between them until Erik is in front of the café’s doors. Erik makes his way to the couches in the back and plops down, resting his head in his arms, waiting for Charles. He spots Azazel seated on the metal chairs outside and groans again. Where was his privacy? He couldn’t make a move on the waiter with Azazel watching him like a hawk. What if Azazel was still here when Erik wanted to kiss Charles? He shudders at the thought.

“Hey, you wanna order?” Someone asks him, and Erik perks up, thinking it could be Charles. Instead, a young teen with messy dirty blonde hair stands in front of him, looking irritated.

“You want something to drink? To Eat?” The teen asks again.

To say Erik is annoyed is an understatement. This stupid teen in front of him is spoiling his mood; worsening it in fact, which hadn’t seemed possible before considering he had already reached his tolerance limit.

Erik snorts rudely. “I want Charles.”

The teen rolls his eyes at him. “Alright sir, one Charles, coming right up.”

Erik drops his head back onto his folded hands and focuses on his breathing. He was the president! How could they not tell who he is? Where was Charles?

“Erik?” The accent is British and Erik feels a bit brighter immediately. He lifts his head up and looks up.

Charles is dressed in the café uniform of a light beige shirt and black loose pants. Erik notices his nametag is pinned to his shirt crookedly and smiles. How adorable, he thinks.

“Hello Charles,” he greets, changing his posture so he is now sitting straight. “How are you today?”

Charles blushes, and Erik thinks he wants to see this sight everyday. The soft pink blush on his pale cheeks compliments his brown hair very nicely and Erik is tempted to see how pink Charles can get.

“I'm actually very glad you came today,” Charles tells him. “I tried another cake! This one’s quite unique and I'm not sure how you’ll like the flavor, but I’d like it very much if you tasted it.”

Erik melts at the last part.

“And I’ll get you your black tea or would you like to have something different today?”

Charles remembered his order from yesterday then. The attraction must be mutual, Erik notes. Charles is fidgeting with his book and looking over at Erik, concerned.

“The black tea is fine, Charles,” Erik says. “I’d be delighted to try your new cake. As long as it’s your work of course.”

Charles goes pink again for a moment before smiling widely at him. “One black tea and a lemon bombe.”

He sends Erik one last smile before walking off to another table. It’s funny, Erik thinks, he’d never been even remotely fond of other mutants before Charles, but here he was. There was something about Charles. Erik didn’t know if it was because Charles was so adorable, so trusting or just so cute or pretty. Mein Gott. Erik really couldn’t think of other words to describe him. He was just so angelic. Erik wanted to smash his face into the table. He reminded himself that he was Magneto and Magneto was definitely not this sappy.

He refrains from damaging his face and instead continues to watch Charles again. Charles flits from table to table, chatting with the customers and taking their orders. He always answers questions about the cakes with a blinding smile and enthusiasm. He pays particular attention the children and teens. Charles is very good at describing cakes and how they are, he always goes on and on about each choice on the menu, but always helps the customer in deciding. He also has an enormous amount of patience and waits politely as they decide. Charles is a very soft thing, very very soft thing that needs to be protected and cuddles and cherished, Erik decides.

He notices that he receives his orders much sooner than the other customers, and is secretly crowing. His black tea is steaming slightly when it comes. Along with it, Charles serves a plate of the experimental cake, and an extra plate.

“It’s a lemon bombe.” Charles explains. “A bombe is a soft cake with a creamy center. It’s similar to the last one. I'm experimenting with cakes that have a filling right now, you see.”

There is a whole cake on the plate. The sugary treat is shaped like a dome. It’s covered in white frosting that is twisted and shaped to look like small waves all over the cake and there is a light dusting of cinnamon on the edges of the waves and on their crests. The lemon bombe maintains its shape even as Erik cuts a piece out. The filling is lemon meringue and has a good consistency that doesn’t ooze out from the cake. Charles has taken a seat opposite to him and is watching Erik patiently.

Erik picks up a spoon and scoops out a part of the cake from its inner side. He wants to taste it all together. He slowly places the spoon in his mouth and is immediately bombarded with subtle lemon flavors and the soft texture of the cake. Erik moans softly, licking the remaining meringue off it. He nearly forgets about Charles presence as he finishes his cake piece, leaving nothing remaining. He’s made sure to be as sensual with his moans as he can without coming off as too creepy.

“Erik?”

Time to see if his efforts had paid off. Erik looks up at Charles and whoops in delight inside his mind. The man looks flustered and is blushing prettily. It’s also quite a rewarding sight, seeing Charles lick his lips and bite them nervously. Erik wishes he was Emma so he could see this on repeat whenever he wanted. Nope, no, no way, scratch that, Emma was not going to see this, ever.

“It’s perfect Charles,” he tells the part time baker. “I was surprised by the softness of the cake. I’d expected something different seeing the outside of the cake, but the meringue was a splendid contrast to the icing. It compliments my tea really well too.”

Charles squeals in delight and then blushes again in embarrassment. “Thank you, my friend. I’ve been practicing on this one for a while too, but I didn’t have any willing testers.”

Dear god the man is pouting, and looks damn adorable while doing it too. Erik is sure that if Charles ran for president, even the humans would vote for him. Charles is like something small, cute and fluffy. You’d want to put it in your pocket and take it home with you.  Oh, now’s there’s a good thought.

“I'm glad you like it, I’ll start it out as a special or give it a trial before I put it on the menu. Just to see how the others respond to it.” Charles tells him. “I'm sure you’d want something to drink with the rest of the cake, seeing as the flavors are a bit stronger here, so I'll pack you some extra tea, on the house.”

He pays the bill and waits patiently for his package. By the time his crush comes back with the trademark café bag, Azazel is hovering a few seats away from his. Erik is trying to get his bodyguard and exit strategy to back off when he notices Charles approaching and turns to face him.

“Erik! Sorry it’s a little late,” Charles says sheepishly. “I put in fresh slices for you, but I’ve made the tea exactly how you like it.”

Erik stands and takes the bag from the other man’s hands, deliberately and slowly brushing their fingers together in the process. He stares Charles in the eye, smiling.

“You didn’t have to Charles, it was really nice of you. Thank you.” Erik finds that thanking Charles leads to delightful reactions from the other man, ones which makes Erik want to drop his composure and want to grin.

Charles is fidgeting with his shirt again so Erik waits.

“You’ll drop by again soon?” Charles questions hesitantly and Erik’s need to grin can no longer be contained. He breaks out in what Logan calls his signature Jaws grin.

“Tomorrow Charles,” he reminds his baker. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Charles visibly lightens up and walks with Erik to the door, opening it for him and waving at him as he looks back from the outdoor. Azazel waits until Charles has gone back to waiting tables before he walks out the door towards Erik, rolling his eyes. The blonde is watching him from the glass walls of the café with an irritated expression. What had he even done to the kid?

“You two are really obvious,” the teleporter points out. “People are going to start noticing that Magneto is eating here everyday. It’s a stupid, obvious routine. You shouldn’t keep coming here everyday.”

“I can't move the entire café now can I?” Erik’s good mood has evaporated. Poof. Thank you Azazedummy. But he had a point. How on earth could he protect Charles when his café was so far from the capitol?

“Uh,” Azazel is staring at him in amusement. “You can, actually.”

“Fuck.”

Azazel was right. He glances over the café and inspects it with his power. The building is filled with pipes and metal holders. Erik could easily transport this near the capitol. He’d moved an entire football stadium before so this was a piece of cake. He’d have to find the perfect spot and then convince Charles. His smile was back and wider than ever as Azazel whisked them away.

\---

He has a massive headache even as he makes his way to the enormous dining hall to eat with the rest of the Cabinet. He missed Charles already, and he was one hundred percent sure that Azazel had retold his story in a highly dramatized fashion to the others. Erik did not want to deal with teasing and knowing looks that he was sure to receive, but he had the matter of Charles’s café to discuss.

As soon as he stepped in to the hall, he’s heralded with cheers (mostly from the Professor’s men, plus Azazel) and a whistle from Logan. He exhaled forcefully and made his way to his seat. Hopefully dinner would go much better than their lunch, where they’d relentlessly questioned him about his tactics for seducing one baker slash waiter.

It’s all fine and well until Emma decides to torture him. Evil creature. Despicable creature. Too bad she’s a valuable asset. His suit could do with some diamond cufflinks.

“So Erik,” Emma asks him. “How’d your visit go? Azazel said you brought back another food parcel.”

Erik glares at Azazel.

“I think the Charles guy really likes Erik,” the idiot teleporter supplies, and Mystique chokes on her food. “What? Erik is actually a decent guy if you look past the killing and the ‘I want to rule the whole world’ attitude.”

Mystique frowns at him. “It’s not that,” she begins, and turns to Erik. “Charles is a civilian and low level mutant. You’re putting him in danger by attracting unnecessary attention to him and his café. Even if you do really like him, how are you going to have a normal relationship?”

“Oh don't worry about that,” Azazel grins. “Erik’s got something ready in case Charlie gets in trouble.”

Logan snorts. “What’s that? Kidnapping poor Chuck and keeping him prisoner?”

Hank looks worried. “You won't actually do that would you?”

Erik thinks it might not be such a bad idea.

“Of course not,” he tells Hank even though Emma is eyeing him suspiciously. “For now, I want a few of my men posted there. Maybe Cassidy and Darwin could go, the teens would seem less like bodyguards and more like regular customers and Charles would love them.”

Now Mystique is staring in astonishment. She’s pushed away her plate. “And you would know this how?”

Erik shrugs. “I watch.”

“Creep,” grunts Logan. “But he’s got a point. Chuck can’t know anything about this, or it’ll be worse if someone does get their hands on him.”

“Sean and Darwin are good choices for this.” McCoy seems to agree and Erik is rubbing his hands together in glee within his mind. Once these kids fail to protect Charles, the poor man won't be able to refute his offer of moving closer to the Capitol. Erik is already planning renovations to the new café, metal of course, but also comfy to suit Charles’s desire. Perhaps Charles could also move in with Erik, the Capitol building was large enough for a small army. He would get to watch and taste Charles’s experiments and they could take over the mutant world toge-

“Are you even listening?” Logan asks him and Erik snaps out of his daydream.

“Hey! Don't interrupt him when’s he’s in Charlesland” Azazel scolds him.

Erik groans. Can’t he eat his dinner in peace?

“Right so, we’re out, we got shit to do, thanks to you and your stupid comments during the conference with American government,” Logan snaps at him. Erik doesn’t feel guilty about that at all, he was Magneto and Magneto was straight up asshole-ruthless killing machine. “We’ll let you know how this goes, the Professor thinks something may have come up.”

Mein Gott, he’d forgotten about that.

“Alright, update me tomorrow. Remember to tell him or they to be more specific. We can't afford mistakes like last time. They’re not on the front lines so they don't know how crucial it is to have the correct intel.” His words are laced with irritation and anger, and Erik thinks it is not unwarranted. “Don't bring back anything vague. Comb it thoroughly before you present it to me Howlett, or I’ll be quite thorough when I skin you.”

The burly man and his friends exit the dining room. Mystique exits with them, informing him she has to meet friends. Erik lets her go.

Emma, Azazel and Jean are with him, and Erik decides that he wants to further his attempt to find the Professor. He simply can’t wait any longer, the meetings with the American government had not gone well and he wanted in on how the Professor was going to handle and diffuse this situation. No telepath could reach across oceans.

“Emma,” he calls for the telepath’s attention. “What do you have for me?”

Emma is silent, chin rested on the palm of her hand, watching Erik carefully. “I wouldn’t know where to start Erik,” she says. “All I know for sure is that the Professor is somewhere in Genosha. I think we can also be sure that the Professor is a singular person, not a group acting as an individual.”

“What about the records?” Jean asks. “He did acquire this island for us.”

Erik nods at Jean, the official records must have something.

“Sealed.” Emma answers.

“That is usually not a problem for you.” Erik raises his eyebrows at the White Queen. No matter how insufferable she was, she was still a ruthless telepath and could tear apart the minds of the strongest men. “Why has it become one now?”

“The Professor has locked away their memories,” Emma’s tone is harsher. “The amount of control he has is astounding; I can't get past the blocks he’s placed. Jean would be better suited for this.”

Erik frowned. “We can’t tell the others about Phoenix just yet.”

“Then you need to be patient Erik,” Emma berates. “We’ll find the Professor soon. Azazel is scouting for me, going through all the records for a sign of a telepath who could have grown stronger or developed a new mutation as time passed. There are many other scenarios which are equally possible.”

“I’ve barely gone through any,” Azazel shrugs. “So this’ll take time, but it could be something small like a missed ability examination or a mismarking in the records. But we do have records for every person here, Jean’s made sure of that.”

Jean nods. “Every single mutant on the island has a file.”

“Good,” This will make things relatively less difficult for them, Erik thinks, seeing that they could try going through them one by one. Less room for mistakes, and a thorough investigation of everyone would benefit them. “But this Professor seems to have a knack for stealth, so I'm sure we won't find anything that easily.”

“I'm going to talk with the humans who have met him,” says Emma. “They’re scattered across various continents and the Professor’s reach can’t be all that powerful. Across oceans is a stretch.”

“Alright,” Erik frowns. “While you’re away, Jean will step in for you in private. We’ll think of something else for when I'm in public. Keep these investigations from the Professor’s minions. I don't want the Professor getting a wind of this.”

“This could damage our so far peaceful relationship with them.” Jean adds.

Erik glances at her. That is quite an important point. They already had enough enemies to deal with and he had not doubt that the Professor could easily dismantle them all, Erik and his half of the Cabinet included.

“I trust you will work harder not to be discovered then,” he orders. Finding the Professor is top priority, he will no longer sit back and watch as the Professor manipulates the strings. “Whoever this is, they could prove to be the key to finally getting the humans to back off.”

“I don't quite think that’s their intention,” Emma says. “The Professor has always helped Genosha, but has never indulged in violence to solve the issues.”

Erik will not let that stop him.

“Whoever it is, once they’re brought in, I can make them come around.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea the story would get so serious, but I'll try and keep this very very fluffy. I honestly have no idea how the plot just runs away into action/drama territory every time I try and make it pure fluff!!! Soooo, pls pls pls comment and let me know if I should include some serious elements or keep it all fluff/rainbows/unicorns/nohelmet. 
> 
> These desserts are really pretty if you google them, but I don't have any idea how they taste LOOOOL.
> 
> UPDATE: Next chapter will be pretty angsty/sad because I want to move the plot along much faster!!!

_Pavlova with Blueberry Jam_

Erik goes to the café everyday for the next week. Almost every day Charles has something ready for him to eat and a package to go. The little treats of salted caramel chocolate tart and lemon cheesecake are his favorites as of the moment. As he eats and sips his tea, he does a little investigation as well. Erik observes Charles intently during these short visits and notices all of the baker’s little quirks. Azazel as usual hovers right of out the corner of Erik’s eye, watching over the President and scaring off other mutants who want to approach him. This continues for another half of a week until trouble rears its ugly head.

\---

Erik knew they’d find something on the Professor, but he didn’t think they’d chance upon something so soon. Azazel and Jean had done some impressive reconnaissance. They’d gone through around half the reports while matching them to the people living in Genosha. Jean had found quite a few discrepancies in power level documentations that needed to be rechecked and documented. At the moment, Emma and Azazel were off dealing with the people who had been mismarked. Jean was going through the remaining reports with him and discussing the Professor’s motives.

“I think the Professor is adverse only to violence while dealing with humans,” Jean is telling him. “In his interactions with the human governments, he’s always spoken about mutant freedom and rights and how the humans should respect this.”

“That is true, but if he’s such a pacifist, then we won't be able to defend ourselves properly,” Erik snarls. “The humans are more than capable of hurting us. They go so far as to _experiment_ on us. Don't tell me the Professor wants me to turn my eye away from the experimentations? ”

Jean nods in understanding. “It’s just that the Professor seems to want to deal with these issues in a way that doesn’t appropriate the humans’ fear of us. I think what he’s doing may be right, but we also need to keep our offenses strong.”

“I don't like his approach,” That’s a gross understatement, Erik thinks, he hates the Professor’s methods. “Why must we suffer? We could easily show the humans what we are capable of. We are the future, not them.”

Jean eyes him warily. “Of course, but we need to maintain a peaceful relation with the humans. Right now, we’re a miserable minority. We also have hordes of mutants with lower level powers who can't defend themselves in a fight.”

 Erik grunted. It was so hard to prove just one point. Even though he’s the President, no one listens to him most of the time, he thinks. “This is why I don't want to be President.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to interfere in the nuclear strike.”

“How could I not? They were going to wipe out our kind!” He asks Jean, in shock. He wasn’t going let those puny humans destroy their race, not when he was the all-feared Magneto, mover of stadiums and killer of civilian population.

She smiles at him. “That’s why you’re our President.”

“Yes, well, I'm not a spectacularly good one,” Erik says. He would prefer killing all the humans so he could finally live in peace and maybe go set up tent outside Charles’s café. “Now, when we narrow down the list to a final few, tell Emma to bring them in. I want you to speak to them.”

Jean nods. “I’ll be meeting with CIA representatives today. One of them happens to a Moira MacTaggert, she has quite a thick layer of mental blocks that I'm going to try and get past.”

“Moira MacTaggert?” Why does that name sound so familiar to him?

Jean frowns at him. “She’s been a correspondent for us ever since the Professor acquired this island for us. You don't remember?”

Erik winces internally. He really should pay more attention during the human-mutant conferences rather than leaving it all to the Professor’s minions.

\---

Emma reports back a few hours later with a line up of around eight mutants, all having telepathy related abilities. Jean sits with him as he interrogates each one and blocks their memories afterwards when they finish. Erik is beyond disappointed when they finished. Not one had turned out to be the Professor. They were all weaker telepaths or projectors. The extensive search had been a waste. Erik wants to set Jean upon the entire population and tear their minds apart till they find the man.

Surprisingly, none of these low level projectors had even met the Professor. It had been a fruitless chase. They had to think of other ways the Professor could disguise himself on the island. It was a small place, but mutant abilities varied from manipulating memories to creating astral projections. There were still plenty of ways the Professor could hide.

“Maybe he’s like, hiding behind another weak mutation, like gardening or shit,” says Azazel. “Wouldn’t be the first time somebody had something hidden inside.”

Erik is reminded of Jean. “That’s true.”

“I could look inside and try it, but I’d have to have direct contact with the person and it would take some time. We also need to narrow down the list; I can't possibly do this to everyone living here.” Emma tells him, pulling out more files to look through. “Although, I came across a child named Kitty Pride who had met the Professor briefly, perhaps a passing on the street or small talk while shopping, but even then there are blocks for me to get past. How the Professor can maintain these blocks is beyond me.”

“You think Jean can get past the Professor’s memory blocks?” Azazel asks.

“Don't get your hopes up, Erik,” Emma warns him. “Jean may be stronger than anyone else here, but we don't know how powerful the Professor is. We have to consider that he may be more powerful than her and if he is, maybe we should back off and try to contact him in a different manner.”

“Such as?” Erik scoffs at her. What did they expect, one phone call and the professor would RSVP? Erik wants to roll his eyes at the naivety of his Cabinet members. The Professor probably wouldn’t want to meet him at all, considering that Erik had made his views on him quite clear in the press conferences. He was going to run this country his way; after all, he was President.

“Maybe we could like ask Howlett or McCoy to tell the Professor we want to talk?” says Azazel. “He might even actually show up if you say please, Magneto.”

Erik scowls at the grin Azazel is wearing. When did he suddenly become smart, Erik thinks. Just yesterday when he’d been teleporting them both back to the office, they’d both crashed into an assistant and the man had spent a good five minutes admiring her cleavage under the pretext of helping her.

Emma rolls her eyes at them. “We’ll see what Jean has to show us.”

As they wait for Jean, they go through the remaining files. There aren’t that many left, and it is incites a spark of anger in Erik. Honestly, how could a man hide from them on an island? Erik doesn’t want to think about how much power it would take to completely hide the man’s presence from Jean and Emma combined. That kind of power could become a lethal threat if Erik didn’t handle this right. By right, his brain supplies, it means handling it with blackmail or threats, or both.

“Erik?” Emma calls him, and he turns his attention back to her.

“Charles,” she hands a file to him, throwing him a concerned look. “There are blocks in his mind too.”

Erik slowly takes the file, heart thudding in his chest. “He’s met the Professor?”

“The Professor could have just helped him, not necessarily a meeting or physical contact. Just mental communication during a crisis or something along those lines,” Emma reminds him. “After all, he has helped a majority of the population here on Genosha. We wouldn’t have heard of him otherwise.”

“Can I trust Charles?” he asks Emma. Erik doesn’t want to lose Charles, there are very few mutants he can tolerate and Charles is someone he wants by his side.

She only laughs at him and Erik sneers at her. “Your concern for him is sweet, but not unwarranted. Charles is fine, he’s just a baker. He can barely project past the café walls, but I imagine that’s all he needs to run his business.”

She seems amused. If Emma clears someone, then Erik doesn’t usually worry about them. So it means he can continue to visit Charles. He breathes a sigh of relief. He’ll have to more careful, in case the Professor decides to do something to Charles to teach Erik a lesson. At least this would be an excuse to get Charles to move closer to the Capitol.

A knock interrupts his thoughts. Erik glances up and sees Jean enter the room.

“Jean,” he calls her over to the table to join the discussion.

Jean sits down next to Emma, her posture slumping slightly. Erik frowns. The task of looking through human minds usually doesn’t wear her out so much, but this time, she seems to have drained a lot of her energy. Erik is overwhelmed by the sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He’d never felt this way about an adversary before.

“How did it go?” he questions her, already anticipating failure.

Jean only sighs. “I didn’t break through any of the layers.”

Emma snaps the folder she is holding shut. “None?”

“No,” Jean. “But I’ve managed to put together a vague signature of the Professor’s telepathy, so I’ll be able to sense it immediately if I come across him physically.”

“We can't reveal you to the rest of public Jean,” Erik warns her. Jean is his hidden weapon, even the human masses do not know of her power rating of Class Five except the CIA and Erik wants to keep it that way. If the humans ever got wind of it, they could take it in a more hostile manner and would strive to protect themselves. That situation could escalate very quickly. “But we’ll work something out. What of MacTaggert?”

“MacTaggert seems to have a layer covering and locking away a large portion of her memories.” says Jean. Maybe a little search through these layers would help them, Erik thinks, after all this is probably the most promising lead they have. “There are layers upon layers that protect these memories and while I don't think I can break through them, I’ll start looking for cracks. It doesn’t matter if we don't see her complete memories, all we need is a face for the name right?”

Erik nods. Breaking the wall created by the Professor would probably alert the man to his plan so this seemed like the better option anyways. This was much more discreet and would allow time before the Professor could act in accordance. It would also give him plenty of time to find the Professor as well. They had only had make sure the Professor did not notice Jean’s prodding. That was all up to Jean.

Erik nods once again, this time specifically at Jean, approving her actions. Sometimes he thinks he needs to learn to be a bit more patient, but for now, he wants information. He wants it desperately.

\---

This time when Azazel drops his to the café, Erik is determined to talk to Charles about the Professor. He wants Charles to be safe. The fact that Charles is a mere low level mutant does not bother him the way others do.

Erik is also hoping that Charles has made something new for him to try. The lemon cheesecake had been devoured by him and the others within minutes yesterday. Erik scowls at the thought, he didn’t want to share Charles’s gifts with others. Granted it was only food, but still, he didn’t want a repeat of yesterday.

It’s Thursday and the tea time rush seems to be considerably less. His usual couch is empty, so Erik heads straight for, ignoring the other open tables. This particular couch is located in the back of the café, so it offers some privacy from Azazel at least, if not the customers. He sits down and scans for the teleporter. Even though it’s a loss of privacy, he still needs an exit strategy for himself and Charles should the need arise. Magneto is always prepared. Erik has a funny vision of himself swooping down and saving Charles from danger, cape fluttering as he does so, and Azazel whisking them both to a room so Charles could show his appreciation for Erik properly. Erik smirks; now there’s a fantasy that he could arrange for.

The café is filled with pleasing aromas as always, distracting him as he waits patiently for Charles. Erik watches a white haired woman bustle between tables in fascination. Where on earth did Charles find such unique people, Erik wonders.

“Oh, its you,” It’s the Perpetually Irritated Blonde Teen, eyeing him warily. _Really_ , what had he done to the kid? “I’ll send Charles over so you don't traumatize anyone else.”

Charles! Yes please! Erik can't help the grin that grows on his face. The teen takes one look at it and scurries away with a grimace, muttering something undoubtedly rude under his breath.

When Charles approaches him, Erik gives him the customary once over. His hair is messy again, all over the place. Erik likes the messy hairstyle; it makes him look much younger. He frowns at the bitten lips. Charles shouldn’t have done that, it was Erik’s job for lord’s sake. Erik notices that Charles seems unusually tired today.

“You seem worn out,” Erik tells Charles, who’s decided to sit beside him on the sofa today. The first time Charles had sat next to him and not across him, Erik had gone back to his office and made silent whooping noises while jumping around for a good thirty minutes. If only Charles would move a little closer, he could cuddle him, Erik laments. “Why are you still working?”

Charles sighs. “It’s a café, Erik. We need all the hands we can get. We don't have assistants like you do in the government.”

Ouch. Erik curses himself. The poor thing looked ready to drop and he’d gone and said that. If Charles ever ended up dating him, Erik decided he would take lessons on manners from Jean. Charles was to be coddled, not insulted. He’d probably worked very hard today despite being tired, and Erik had just undermined his efforts.

“It’s alright Erik,” says Charles. “You run a government! A café is a little different, but I see where you’re coming from, my friend. That comment was uncalled for and I apologize.”

Erik’s jaw would’ve dropped right through the floor if he hadn’t been berating himself a second before and therefore not paying attention to Charles. No way he was going to let Charles feel bad, not when he was so tired. It also wasn’t his _liebling’s_ fault, it was Erik’s own and this man was apologizing. By god, if they didn’t end up dating, Erik decides he’s just going to have to kidnap Charles and see how well the Stockholm Syndrome works for them.

“It’s alright, I deserved it. Don't you have breaks?” Erik asks him. They can't work round the clock, he thinks. He’d drop dead if he was forced to be around Azazel and Logan for more than half a day.

“I do Erik,” Charles smiles. “Shall I take it now?”

Well, that turned out better than expected, Erik thinks. Personal time with Charles was a treat in itself. This would be the best time to talk about the Professor and the dangers to Charles’s café. He’d come prepared to move the café, and there was a spot near the Capitol building ready thanks to Logan. McCoy had even added a small garden strip for the benefit of the customers. Now there was only the challenge of getting Charles to agree. Erik has come prepared with an alarmingly long list of white lies to help that particular process along.

“One black tea,” Erik orders. “As for the pastry, _surprise me_.”

Charles flushes Erik’s favorite shade of pink.

“I’ll be right back with your treat.” He tells Erik, letting out a soft squeak as he stumbles on his way to the back kitchen. Erik whoops with glee inside his mind. He really should catch Charles off guard more, the responses Charles gave were fuel for his good mood. So Erik sits and thinks of cheesy things to spring upon the poor baker while he waits.

“Here you go.” Charles placed two teas and a plate full of what looked little clouds in front of him.

Erik waits patiently for the explanation, this is his favorite part.

“These are blueberry jam filled mini pavlovas,” Charles says, gesturing to the berry topped clouds. “The bottom layer is baked meringue. The top fluffy layer is whipped cream and I’ve filled it with blueberry jam, also made by yours truly.”

The mini pavlovas look too delicate to be such a simple dish, Erik thinks. The bottom meringue layer is stiff and shaped like a miniature column with an inward inclined domed top that holds the fluffy white cream. On top of the whipped cream, there a smidgen of blueberry jam, and it’s running down the sides of some, leaving behind a blood red trail. Erik notices there are also small mint sprigs stuck on the top beside the jam. It makes Erik’s mouth water.

He cuts open one, and the inside, he notices, is similar to the bombe he’d had yesterday. It’s a pure white, unlike the cream-colored outer layer and much softer. He devours the first one, relishing the flavors that burst across his tongue. It’s mostly crispy from the outer layer and the blueberry jam mixes well with the whipped cream in his mouth. Erik decides that this is by far, the best dessert he has ever tasted.

Charles is eating a piece himself, and Erik pauses in his eating to watch Charles deftly clean the spoon with his tongue. Erik finds himself thinking of other things Charles could do with tongue, and grows flustered at the images his stupid mind supplied. Of all the times! Where was this creativity during his morning showers?

Charles stops to stare at him.

“I suppose this is good too?” Charles teases, and Erik scowls. Be cute Charles, he orders the man in his mind, be cute like a puppy. If he projects hard enough, maybe the baker will get it.

“Yes,” he answers curtly, he was not going to let this embarrass him, he would woo the man, and then those images would become a reality. He softened his tone. “I think anything you worked hard on Charles, would come out delicious.”

The man opposite him smiled sweetly. “And I think you flatter me too much, my friend.”

That word was going to have to go. ‘My _friend_. Nope, not your friend Charles, not with all the things he was dreaming of doing to the poor, unsuspecting baker. Something more. Like lover, partner, soulma--- no sap, Erik reminds himself. He still had to talk to Charles about the move.

“So,” Erik wants to know more about Charles. He also wants to ease into the topic of moving the café. He couldn’t bloody well tell the man straight up he wanted to uproot the entire building and dump it somewhere else miles away, no could he? “How did you decide upon opening a café?”

Charles beams at him, and Erik can tell he’s going to get a long lecture. It’s quite fortunate, Erik thinks, that he likes listening to Charles talk. Apparently Charles, when he’d come to Genosha, had not found a promising profession considering his ability was low level projection. He’d wanted to be involved in society somehow and he’d also wanted to do something he loved. So, with the fair amount of money he’d amassed while he’d being living in New York, Charles had decided to start a café and provide employment for other mutants whose volatile powers prevented them from finding normal jobs.

He also tells Erik of a younger sister who he rarely sees, and speaks of her so fondly that for a moment Erik is seething with jealousy. He spends that particular part of the conversation doing his best to stay calm.  

“Anyways, I'm quite happy with the way the café turned out,” Charles scans the café proudly, sitting up straighter and smiling happily. “I didn’t think it would become this popular. I only wish I’d chosen a better location.”

Erik freezes, and his eyes widen. Oh this could be good, he cackles, half his work might over right here.

“If only we were located inside the city,” Charles pouts. “I can't move this café there, but hopefully we can expand! I’ve been thinking about it for some time now.”

Erik hasn’t felt this way since he’d averted the nuclear attack on Genosha. He’s won even before the conversation had started. If this goes right, he thinks, he won't even have to use Cassidy and Darwin to get what he wants, and whatever Magneto wants, he gets. Apparently the entire universe knew this.

“Charles,” Erik interrupts him. “I think I can help you with that.”

The baker’s eyes widen. “Oh no, I couldn’t and I won't accept your money Erik. We’ll get there someday on our own, but thank you for the offer.”

Erik sighs.

“Charles, you must know that my ability is metallokinesis?” Erik asks him and Charles nods in response, worrying his lower lip. Erik has half a mind to ditch the discussion for a later date and do the worrying for Charles, but he can do that everyday and better when the café is five minutes away from his office, so he needs to get this done.

“I can shift your café to a location near the Capitol building. Overnight.”

Charles’s mouth opens in shock. Erik can see the cogs working in Charles’s mind and can tell that the man is seriously considering his offer. The space they’d chosen for the café was at a good location for it to gain traffic, and Erik could walk to it. They’d have to tell Charles that his life was in grave danger for this, but hey, it wasn’t a complete lie.  

“Erik,” Charles says finally. “There has to be another reason why you’re offering to move an entire building for me.”

Time to bring out the big guns. He motions for Azazel to join them and the teleporter sits opposite to them in an instant with a puff of red energy. Lie number one, Erik thinks.

“The mere fact that I am Magneto to everyone and then the fact that I'm President puts you and this café in danger Charles.” Erik tells the baker. “I have plenty of enemies, both human and mutant. They could see that I'm quite fond of you and harm you.”

“You don't really need to protect us.” Charles protests.

“He does,” Azazel cuts in. “There are lots of attacks on him and on us. The humans aren’t nice about the Presidential Cabinet at all. You could be taken in. They torture the shit of those mutants who get caught man. You don't want that kinda torture, trust me. Plus, not all the mutants are friendly either.”

Erik nods, making sure to display blatant concern on his face with the furrowing of his brows. Lie number two.

“We’ve been having issues lately, with security and then there was the beach attack. Charles, you’re far too close to the beach. There might be another attack since they didn’t succeed this time, and you’re right in the line of fire if you stay here. There are civilians who will be in this café and then there are your workers.”

Charles nods slowly. “But Erik, you could send some people to protect us then, if that’s the case. You don't have to move the entire café.”

“I want to Charles,” Erik wants Charles to understand that Erik _wants_ to move the café. Erik thinks it’s time for lie number three. “I can't spare a lot of men from the Capitol. We need them ready for attacks and defense. The café is too far from the Capitol for them to travel back and forth easily. If you’re near the Capitol, I can provide assistance right away.”

He can see Charles’s will waver visibly. Time for the final blow, he thinks, and it needs to be good. 

Erik makes sure his voice is grave and emotional. He intends to emotionally blackmail the poor man. Erik can tell that Charles’s will is weakening, so he needs to strike deep and hard. He finds it adorable how Charles is so worried for his café and its workers. Erik decides he’s going to make Charles’s café expansion dream come true once he shifts to the Capitol and all the other messes are taken care of.

“I don't want any harm done to you Charles,” Erik places his hand on Charles forearm and squeezes lightly. He stares Charles in the eye, blinking a few times and running his eyes over Charles’s face. That ought to do, he thinks. “I couldn’t bear it if you were put in danger.”

He’s knows he succeeded when the baker melts and places his own hand on top of Erik’s. Thank god Charles has made up his made, Erik thinks he may vomit if he has to do any more sappy convincing.

“Thank you Erik,” Charles says softly. “It is really touching that you care so much for me and that the concern extends to my café. Most people who like me do not care so much for the café.”

Erik frowns at this. The café was clearly Charles’s most prized possession, how could one expect to date the man without also side dating the café?

“I met you because of this café.” He tells Charles instead, wondering why he was being so sappy when he’d just decided that he wasn’t going to do anymore sappy convincing. How did he have this much sappiness in him when he was Magneto for lord’s sake? “You’ve also worked hard for its success. I would never separate you from this. The workers have also become a sort of family to you as well, I've noticed. It’s not something I would ever take from you Charles. I would protect this café as well.”

Azazel coughs and Erik sends a glare his way. Charles always brought up the most stickiest, sappiest parts of him somehow.

“Thank you Erik, really. I don't know what to say.” Charles seems to be in awe and Erik swells with pride. Charles is in _awe of him_ , he gloats inside his mind.

“I have a friend in the Capitol who can house us, so this arrangement works out I think. I do hope it’s not too much trouble for you to move the café. It is a big building.”

Erik grins at Charles’s concern for him. It’s quite cute actually. “I’ve moved an entire football stadium before.”

\---

That night, Charles locks down everything inside the café. All the tables and chairs are piled up and kept carefully, so they don't attain any damage during the process. Logan, Azazel and Charles are with him for this. Azazel to protect him while he moves the café and Logan to protect the baker.

He’d hoped that Charles would ask to come along. This was an excellent opportunity to show off. He knew that Charles admired everyone’s mutation and praised the others in his café. This act would not only impress Charles but also make Charles feel even more thankful, as he’d get to see Erik transport it across to the center of the city. The rest of the workers had been sent to the city to move in. Charles also had fliers ready to inform his customers that the café had been moved to the city center and he was currently running around and sticking them everywhere. Erik chuckles fondly at the sight. The man was too adorable for his own good when he was flustered.

“Logan,” he motions for the man to stay with Charles. He needed to focus on his own task.

The café rips apart from the ground gently. Erik takes extreme care not to damage the café, and thus, it is much more of a taxing job than the stadium had been. There were plates, tables, and vases he couldn’t damage. He pulls it up gently and it begins to rise into the air.

Once it rises to a sufficient height, he calls for Azazel to follow him, and begins to move toward the center of the city. He floats it past the other building with care, adjusting it occasionally. It is difficult to maintain the balance, but it stands straight as he makes his way to his destination.

The spot McCoy has selected for the café is directly across from the front of the Capitol building. Not only was it in a bustling area, Erik could also see the café from his glass walled office. He’d cleared out the area in front of the estimated space of the café and had ordered for a pathway and a fence to be built. The vintage design fence was made entirely of metal and it was designed to include spiked heads. Excellent defense, in Erik’s opinion.

Erik slowly lowers the café into position. He makes sure to connect all the pipes necessary for plumbing and the wires for the electricity. The café has to be up and running by tomorrow afternoon at least, so he takes extra care with it all.

“Go and get Charles and Logan,” Erik orders Azazel once he is finished. The teleporter flashes away and Erik sits down on a nearby bench.

Azazel is back with Charles first, depositing him right next to the bench before disappearing to fetch Logan. Charles sits down beside Erik.

Erik purses his lips. There’s far too much space between them, he thinks and slowly shuffles closer to Charles. The younger man glances at Erik with awe in his eyes.

“You’re really kind Erik,” Charles praises him and Erik felt his cheeks heat up. Oh the things Charles did to him. “I'm assuming you fixed the piping and wiring too?”

“Of course,” Erik replies. “I thought you’d want it running soon.”

Charles sighs and Erik freezes in place. Why is he sighing? He’d even fixed the café so it could open tomorrow. What if Charles didn’t want it open tomorrow? Erik was panicking now. How was he to know that Charles didn’t want it running tomorrow?

“Erik,” Charles says softly. “What you’ve done here, I'm beyond grateful for it. I don't know how’ll I'll ever repay you for this, dear friend.”

Wow, so after all this, he’s only been promoted from _good_ friend to _dear_ friend? Erik resists the urge to pout. Erik thinks Charles must be feeling inadequate since he doesn’t have great abilities like Erik to do something to repay him.

“You could start by feeding me every evening,” Erik tells him teasingly. “My office isn’t that far away, so you’d be able to drop by.”

Charles smiles shyly. “If that’s alright with you.”

“of course it is,” Erik reassures the baker. “I’d love to have you for tea sometime too. I’d like to return the favor.”

“Oh no you don't,” Charles berates him cutely, index finger waving in the air. “I already owe you a lot, Erik! If you do any more for me, I'll be tied to you permanently.”

“And what if I want it that way?” Erik raises one eyebrow and maintains his cool. He just knows Charles is going to flush prettily now.

Aha! There was that lovely rose colored blush on cheeks. Erik thinks he should start documenting all the different shades of red and pink Charles turns. Maybe he should include photos in that.

Charles is trying to cover his larger than life smile with his hand, but Erik can tell when he’s thoroughly flustered. A success he thinks. Charles seems more relaxed now, Erik had noticed the other man had seemed tense when they’d met in front of the café.

“We need to get going, Boss.”

Azazel. One of these days, Erik swears, he’s going to skin that thing. A bright red carpet would definitely improve the dining room. He and Charles were doing so well too, they’d finally had a moment. And hello, lots of moments lead to, you guessed it, relationship! Erik tightens Azazel’s belt purposefully and listens to the man shriek.

“I’ll get going too then,” Charles says ruefully and Erik wants to kiss his disappointment away. “You’ll drop by tomorrow for tea?”

Erik grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

\---

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> I HAD SO MUCH TROUBLE WITH THIS STUPID CHAPTER SINCE IT TRANSITIONS TO A MORE SERIOUS STORY HERE. By the Grace of the God of writing (J.K. Rowling), I think I've found a beta.
> 
> Also, the next chapter will go back to fluffy café and will also include all new fluffy house scenes!!!

 

_Buttermilk Glazed Cherry Sheet Cake_

Things are a lot better now that Charles has shifted near the capitol building. Erik spends more time in the café, chatting with Charles as the man works. Unfortunately, so does the rest of his cabinet. The café is very, very close; just the way Erik likes it. His work is also going much better, as he tends to watch the café from his glass walled office most of the time. This always lifts his mood. He also drops in for tea everyday and on some occasions, he drops by again at night before he heads back to the Capitol for bed. He has five-star food service available back at his Presidential suite, but he wants to be around the baker as much as he can without seeming like a complete creep.

The café’s doing great too. There’s a lot of traffic now, thanks to the fliers Charles has set up. Erik has seen them everywhere for around a week, stuck on the poles, on the walls, and sometimes even on fire hydrants. People are flocking to the café and Erik is glad that McCoy had thought to add an outdoor seating area, since the place is usually packed. Erik’s made sure that everyone in the café stays away from _his_ couch. (It’s got the perfect angle to watch Charles and his pert little ass.)

The Cabinet, (minus Jean) and Erik spend a lot of their free fun time in the café, and by now, the whole staff is friends with them. Erik learns that their names are Alex (previously the Perpetually Irritated Blonde Teen), Kitty, Ororo (she prefers Storm), and Bobby. They’re an odd bunch, but everyone else on the Cabinet gets along with them fine. Emma notices that they all are somewhat immune to her powers and are able to push her out, but they say Charles sometimes projects stuff they’d rather not see, so they’d learned to get block it out. It causes a hearty laugh and then the incident is forgotten.

The introductions had been awkward, thinks Erik. It had been a cloudy afternoon when they’d all headed inside the café and to Erik’s couch. Charles hadn’t met anyone else other than Azazel and Logan yet, and even those two he didn’t know so well. When Charles had seen the group Erik had brought with him, he’d frozen in place, a panicked expression on his face. Erik had to get up and bring him to the table with assurances that his friends did indeed think nice of him.

 “He-hello,” Charles had stuttered, cheeks flamed, and Mystique had scoffed. “I’m Charles, umm… I remember you all from the beach visit. I was the one who took your orders?”

There had been a deafening awkward silence where no one had enough social skills to know what to say, and Erik had wanted to kill them all.  

“He’s the one who makes the treats.” Erik had then reminded them. “The packages you steal from me?”

Being a good baker was apparently all it took to completely win over the Cabinet. Emma had drilled Charles with question after question, leaving the poor thing flustered. Charles had thrown many pleading looks at Erik that evening, and those had fueled his fantasies for the rest of the week. Logan hadn’t made fun of the baker at all, but turned out to be overly protective (AKA very touchy, feel-y) of him. Just for that, he’d just shot up a few places on Erik’s ‘To Kill List’. Mystique hadn’t said anything at all, surprisingly.

The staff is nice too, at least to the other Cabinet members. Logan and Storm get along fine. Mystique, McCoy, and Alex are the best of buds. Kitty and Bobby don't usually talk to them, focusing on the café traffic and homework; but are the head of the Official Mystique Fan Club, which Erik sees McCoy encouraging subtly. Despite the fragmentation when dealing with Cabinet, the staff band together when they see Erik and glare at him collectively. Oh well. He had sweet little Charles after all. Oh the sappiness of it all.

However, it couldn’t be better, Erik thinks.

Charles and Erik have made real progress into their friendship and past that boundary as well. Charles had started taking his breaks whenever Erik had come in. This was partly due to clever bribing on Erik’s part and unheard levels of stupidity on Alex’s. They’d started talking a lot more, and Erik had used these talks to find out everything about the adorable baker. Charles had gotten closer and more comfortable with Erik with each subsequent talk. Erik had been ecstatic when he’d noticed this pattern. At present, Erik and Charles had proceeded to hugs and light touches whenever they could. Charles’ hands are very soft and Erik wants those on other parts of his body damn it. Although, this was torturous for him, since any time Charles’ skin met his in a lingering touch, Erik’s libido would flare up with the desperation of a starved lion. His morning sessions in the shower were getting shorter each day too.

The baker would bestow upon him these tempting touches when they said goodbye or when Erik was being handed food. Erik also noticed that their hugs were a lot longer and drawn out whenever he dropped by in the night. Charles also had a habit of burrowing into Erik when they hugged, and Erik himself liked cradling the baker tenderly, one hand on his back. The other hand had slowly progressed from clutching his shoulder to cupping his nape. The first time Erik had done, his heart had been hammering in his chest. When he’d succeeded in pulling it off, well, that particular night had involved a one-man hysterical giggle fest within the soundproof walls of his Capitol room.

“Thinking about your liebling?” Emma teases him, breaking him away from his reminiscing, shattering his contented mood.

 _Liebling._ He’d been thinking of Charles that way for a while now. It had started when he realized that Charles had also started taking care of his Cabinet members. The cute thing had memorized their favorite treats and drinks and always gave out extra pastries if they were ever in a bad mood. He also took extra care for Mystique and McCoy, listening to them rant about Erik and comforting them after a bad day.

It was one day when he’d seen them acting like this when he’d realized they’d somehow become a small unit, like a family. When he’d told Charles this, the other man had just beamed at him in fondness and told him that of course they were his family too now.

Today as well; the squabble is babbling away, listening intently to Charles’ rant about his latest trial dessert; buttermilk glazed cherry sheet cake. Erik thinks the best part about visiting in the night is tasting these first.

He watches them, relaxed, sipping his black tea.

The sheet cake pieces have been cut into rectangles so that they can be divided among the Cabinet. It is a rich cream-colored dessert, embedded with dark red dried cherries on top. There are small air pockets that give the cake a soft texture inside his mouth as it melts. Then the buttermilk, splattered in carefully messy lines across, blends in with the rest of the flavors and Erik is lost in the surreal feeling of it all.

\---

He should’ve known things weren’t always going to stay that way, Erik bemoans. They were preparing for a conference with the humans and Erik’s mood wasn’t right at all. There were _humans_ in Genosha, for Lord’s sake. Who knows what they might pull. He’s told everyone to be alert and upped all the security for this. Even though only a dozen or so governments had sent in representatives to Genosha, Erik wasn’t going to take his chances. Last time he’d been lax, they’d somehow come up with plastic bullets.

Therefore, he was tensed and angry by the time the summit started. Erik thinks with himself being angry all the time, he might as well change skin colors with Azazel. Or with the Hulk. What was with whole green thing anyway? Then maybe, the humans might back off from him. He really should’ve predicted what was about to happen, considering his anger always resulted in the same thing.

Scott Summers was joining Erik’s usual team of Emma, McCoy, Howlett and Azazel. He reckons that they should be able to keep him in check and mitigate any offenses he makes. Erik wants things to go smoothly, since they could possibly encounter the topic of the beach attack. It was a guarantee that he was going to get angry and the others seem to sense this too. Erik hopes that he doesn’t do anything drastic.

Erik learns that the universe is only on his side on the topic of a certain baker.

The conference room where they are going to conduct the summit is located on the top floor of the Capitol building. The Capitol building, shaped like a long oval sphere with its bottom half sunk into the ground; had been designed mostly with glass and metal so that Erik could use it as a weapon in times of attack. It has three office floors, all with glass-lined walls so that the residents could spot an attack coming a mile away. There was a final fourth floor on the top, protected with thick metal walls, for residency, where the Cabinet was staying. The humans are housed separately, hidden away from the public.

The room is on the third and top most office floor and it provides a view of the entire city, stretching out for miles. Charles’ little café is a beige and brown anomaly in between the administrative offices and buildings that surround the Capitol. It’s already distracting Erik as he seats himself ahead of the allotted time and waits for the others.

They all file in at around nine in the morning, after eating separate breakfasts in the Capitol building. There is a long oval table, with plush coal grey chairs, dusted and polished for this event. Erik feels the weight the metal seat takes as each human sits down. He wants to avoid them as much as he can, for fear that he might just kill someone if they say so much as one wrong word, but they need this summit to go smoothly. Erik wills himself to behave.

There are almost twelve representatives, and Erik thinks that they look far too relaxed as they enter and take their respective seats. Erik has a talent for sniffing out trouble, and that same gut feeling that warns him every time is now pooling in the depths of stomach. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself.

This cannot go wrong.

\---

It starts fine enough, with a reading of the goals after an introduction of the people in attendance. Then it all goes downhill from there.

“We’ve heard about the incident you had at the Southport Beach,” the Russian representative speaks. “Your methods to deal with it were not appreciated by the Americans and most of the other countries as well.”

Erik calms himself again before answering; this needs to be a legitimate and justifiable answer. “We were informed that they were sent in to take the citizens in for experimentation. We acted in accordance to the information provided to us. I am told that this information is not incorrect.”

“You killed nearly a hundred soldiers who were mainly unarmed.” That was the Japanese representative again. They put too much faith in the ability of their metal stealth technology, which Erik had sensed the minute they’d arrived on the floor. He’d crushed it discreetly when he’d been giving her his best fake smile during the introductions. “You all have many abilities, and I am informed, Mr. President, that you could have handled it some other way.”

“It is true. However, for us, experimentation is equal to terrorism.” Hank is speaking now. “There were more than three flanks of human soldiers, who were determined to take in civilians for experimentation. However, we did not harm the other waves who came from the last submarine the CIA had tried so hard to hide. Many more were spared than killed.”

“This is true,” England’s envoy says. “Why did you let these men go?”

“It was Professor X who took extra care to send the men back in excellent condition,” Hank says and there is a wave of heated murmuring across the delegates. Hank frowns at them. Erik can sense that something is off. “I'm told the Professor has discussed this strain with you all in advance.”

“Yes, however,” It was the Japanese woman again. “We would to like to know why you killed the other men when you had these options.”

“I'm sure the Professor has told you he was unable to reach them in time.” Hank states and Erik notices his voice is wary. Even Hank has noticed that there is something more to this conversation.

“Even then, Magneto laid waste to a good number of our soldiers.”

“Well,” The anger inside Erik is starting to intensify. “Seeing as the men were here to take prisoners to torture and study them, I think my actions are justified.”

“Experimentation is not torture,” Erik gapes at the CIA envoy. He doesn’t think he can hold back his anger for much longer if this talk continues. “Some of the results are highly beneficial to us.”

“We would provide most of the information you need,” Hank says. “You only have to ask and we will make arrangements for these issues. You don't need to take our kind and treat them like lab rats. There are things that may hurt certain mutants with certain abilities and I have seen far too many study centers rise up and exploit us under the pretext of ‘studying’ the mutants.”

“Well, it is the truth. We are ‘studying’ your species, so that we can understand you better.” the CIA representative says. “You are a threat to us. We need to be able to defend ourselves appropriately should the time come.”

“Listen; we don't usually attack, you do,” Logan says without any ire. However, Erik can see that the calm that the infamous Wolverine is portraying is not all it seems. “You attack us and then blame us for defending ourselves. That isn’t right.”

 “We do not attack first,” the German envoy counters. “Your actions force us to take defensive measures and the beach incident might have been one.”

“Magneto’s stunt with the missiles showed us that you could easily wipe us out if you decided.” The French envoy glares at Erik.

“You don't think that to be all true,” Emma says and Erik pays attention. Emma always attacks well with her words. “I trust you have seen some of the study centers? Would you prefer it if we treat your kind the same way? After all, you too are a threat to our kind. With your experimentation and studies, you have easily killed around a _quarter_ of our population.”

The French shuts his mouth and leans back in his seat, his face growing red.

“We are not as much a threat as you are,” Erik’s eyes snap to the speaker. The CIA again, why were they even here? “You have _powers_ , while we have guns and bombs. You could easily deflect them. Your ability is to manipulate metal and we’ve already seen this once at Cuba.”

“Cuba?” Erik grits out. “Cuba, may I remind you, was where you were trying to wipe out the mutant community that had developed there? You were mercilessly going to wipe out a whole community of our kind! My actions saved the lives of nearly a thousand people!”

“Yes, I agree,” the CIA liaison smirks slightly. “But what about that little show you put up? You could have easily destroyed our ships or maybe levelled an entire country. Was it a threat, Magneto?”

Erik snarls.

“To show you that you cannot simply decide to wipe out an entire species. I did not let even one harm your ship.”

“Therein lies my point,” the liaison says slowly, turning to the other human delegates at the table. “They’re too volatile to trust. He could have just as easily chosen, if he was angry, to wipe us out instead.”

“Care to explain?” Logan is angry now, Erik can feel the pulse of metal claws just under Logan’s skin, trembling as they rise slowly and retract in fluctuating patterns.

“You,” the CIA spokesperson points at Logan. He says it again and points at Erik, then again at Emma, and then again at McCoy. “You could decide one day, that you’re tired of negotiating with us, or you’re just plain tired of us and decide to wipe us out. After all, what are you called? Homo sapiens superior right? We’ve seen the damage just one of you can do, so with all of you combined, you’re an apocalyptic force. What’s to say you won't wipe us out first?”

The anger rises much faster now and Erik feels close to exploding. “We live a peaceful life in Genosha,” he spits out. “We do not use our powers outside this island, we do not influence or interrupt human life. It is you who comes to our doors with shackles and tasers, intent on harming us. You are the ones who imprison us and treat us like disposable lab rats.”

“Killing the scientists will not help, nor will killing us,” the Russian says, seeing Erik’s anger. “Our fear of your race is justified, and we just seek to understand and protect ourselves. Killing us will not stop anything.”

Erik sees red. He was going to have to show these arrogant humans exactly why the rest of Genosha respected him so much.

The metal door melts and becomes a solid wall and the walls too, metal slowly covering the glass. He binds the delegates to their chairs, glad for once that everything is made with metal. Erik wants to kill them all, regardless of the fact that this conversation is being broadcasted to the other governments. Vaguely, he can hear the rest of his Cabinet yelling at him to stop in the background and he pulls them back with restraints made of metal from the table. He turns back to the human envoys.

“I was experimented on,” he begins. “From the age of ten.”

He pauses.

“My powers were nothing great, until,” Erik remembers that day very clearly. “Until my mother was killed right in front of my eyes as a catalyst to open the door to my extensive abilities. My mother was a human, just like you. She’d never done anything to anyone. For the sole sake of discovering my abilities for their benefit, they killed my mother. I watched my mother die in order for my powers to reach their full potential.”

The metal in the room is trembling. The delegates watch him with pale faces, and yet Erik is not satisfied. He wants to kill their families in front of them, and see how they would fare. Rip apart their loved ones in front of them and see how well they could handle it. After all, humans were delicate little creat-

 _It’s alright._ A voice tells him, soothingly.

Erik feels his anger drain away, and not of his own accord. He struggles against the hold on his mind. The Professor, he thinks. He glances at the others in the room in a haze, and finds them in the same dazed state. The Professor has astounding control; everybody in the room is in different states of consciousness and differently controlled.

 _Release your hold on them_ , the voice commands softly, and Erik finds himself obeying. In a matter of minutes, the room and its occupants is restored to its previous state.

It is a while before the voice is in his head again, and in its absence Erik sees the human delegates calm down and relax.

 _They have a different version of today’s events implanted in their heads,_ the Professor tells him. _They have also agreed to a peace treaty, which you will now proceed to sign and celebrate in the evening. You and your Cabinet only will remember the truth of the events today. Use this to your advantage._

What have you done to them, Erik demands.

_No harm has been done._

Why would you help me? Erik wants answers. This is a man he has spoken against brutally, in the news and privately, and yet here he was, receiving aid.

_I help our kind._

The voice is soft and soothing and Erik finds himself relaxing at the reason as he tries to continue their conversation.

This won't stop whatever their doing, Erik projects. They’re afraid of us, Erik admits, more so than usual, and I do not know why. Something has them thinking that we are much more of a threat than we actually are.

_I cannot sense anything beyond their fear. The person who is orchestrating this has shielded themselves from me and I am unable to access their mind._

You know who’s behind this, Erik states.

_Yes._

Tell me, Erik commands. I want to know.

_You may not like this, Erik._

Erik growls. Even though the Professor has his grubby little telepathic tentacles all over Genosha, it’s still his country and no way he wasn’t going to go after whatever pipsqueak was endangering them now.

Tell me anyways, Erik asks again. Honestly, with the Professor this slow, he might be an old man, Erik thinks. Perfect for the whole hidden-benefactor-protective-doting-spoiling-professor image.

_Sebastian Shaw._

Erik’s anger slides from his mind like water off a vertical plate. There is nothing in his mind other than deafening silence and the face of his mother as she collapses in front of the two soldiers next to her, blooding gushing from the bullet wound in her stomach. Erik is going to kill him. He has the coin. He’s going to kill him slowly, painful-

_Calm your mind, Erik. There are other urgent matters to be dealt with now._

What things, Erik snaps, even as he feels the presence retreat from his mind, taking the strange calm with it. Come back, Erik projects, come back and tell me what you know of Shaw, he roars. There is no answer, no telltale soft burst at the corners of his mind that he had felt every time the Professor had answered him.

There is nothing there.

Erik feels paranoid for the rest of the day and all throughout the celebrations, and makes sure to stay closer than usual to Azazel.

\---

By the end of it all, Erik is far too tired to do anything else. He takes the elevator to the top floor and makes his way to the south end, where the largest suite, and his home is. Erik doesn’t realize he’s forgotten to meet Charles at the celebration party and take him for dinner afterwards. He takes a freezing shower, still haunted by the image of his mother calling his name as she crumples on the floor of Shaw’s office in a pool of her own blood.

He stands still under the showerhead, letting the cold water rush over him until his skin starts to prune. Startled out of the trance only by the pain from his pruning skin, he shuts off the shower. Stepping out, he wraps a bathrobe around his built frame. He changes into his sleeping attire in a daze and heads to the kitchen for coffee.

_Shaw._

There was no chance that he was letting the bastard escape him now, Erik thinks. He’s going to kill Shaw, Professor be damned.

A series of soft knocks on his door draws his attention. He thrusts the coffee cup into the sink, irritated and strides to the door. Erik pulls it open abruptly, a slew of rude words ready to attack the person who had dared come to him now of all times, when he freezes.

Charles.

The baker is standing there, disheveled. His brown slacks are dirty, probably from the activity at the café, and he is wearing a vest of a darker shade over a mahogany shirt. In his hands, he carries a package from the café. His hair is messy and windblown, and Charles’ lips are bitten and bruised. Erik can see that the man is distraught. Although he himself is going through a difficult time, Erik opens the door even wider; a silent signal for Charles to make his way inside and the younger man does.

Erik shuts the door and follows Charles to the living room. The baker deposits the parcel on the table and slumps down on the coal grey couch, motioning for Erik to sit beside him. Erik sits beside him, but maintains a distance. He doesn’t think he can take any of Charles’ issues right now without getting a little too emotional himself. He doesn’t want his anger spoiling this thing he had with Charles.

“Erik,” Charles’ voice breaks. Erik knows from experience that this is a sign that the man is nervous. “Mystique told me about the summit.”

Erik draws in breath. This isn’t any of Charles’ business, he thinks angrily. Even Mystique doesn’t know the whole story behind his mother’s death. No one knows about Shaw, save him and now the Professor, who had seen it in his head. If Charles is here to talk about his experimentation, Erik decides that this may be the one time he would have to say no to the man.

“I'm so sorry it went like that and about the things they said about you,” Charles tells him, his hands on Erik’s arms, pulling them closer together on the sofa. “It isn’t it true, Erik. Don't believe a word they said. We’re not threats and they’ll come around. You’re not what they make you out to be, Erik.”

He breathes a sigh of relief within his mind. Charles has just come to talk about the summit then.

“It’s alright Charles,” Erik tells the worried man. “I'm not affected. I’ve heard worse.”

The smaller man looks unsure of this.

“I heard what they about the experimentation. “ Charles tells him.

Erik pulls his hands away roughly.

“It was not Mystique’s story to tell.” he says after a while, looking Charles in the eye. Charles’ face is slightly pink and his lower lip is trembling. His breathing is uneven and Erik thinks the man is going to cry.

“I'm so sorry, Erik.” Charles turns away, worrying his lips again. Erik can tell that the man is trying to calm himself. “I’ve bought you some cherry pie, your favorite, for the morning.”

Charles springs up from the couch and heads for the door. Erik feels horrible. Charles had only come to help. This was what people did in a friendship, and perhaps this was a sign that Charles perhaps liked him as much as Erik did and he hadn’t handled it right. Mystique had probably told him that Erik had just told a vague part of his story to nearly twelve different human governments that wanted to get rid of him and then Erik had just told Charles that he wasn’t going to extend the same courtesy to him. Brilliant move, Erik sarcastically praises himself with a tinge of anger.

Erik extends his powers and jams the lock as he rises, stumbling on his way to prevent Charles from leaving. Charles is staring at the doorknob dumbly when he finds him, and slowly turns around to face Erik. Erik can't take much more of talking and he doesn’t think he can do it right either, so he chooses to hug Charles instead, hands clenching the vest so tight his knuckles turn whiten. He drops his head onto Charles’ shoulder and burrows his head in the space between the man’s neck and shoulder blade. He takes deep breaths, letting Charles’ musk overwhelm him as he tries to ground himself. This is the best apology he can offer the baker as of now.

Charles wraps one arm around Erik’s torso.

As soon as Charles’ other arm starts brushing through his hair tenderly, Erik thinks that the summit might have been good for something after all.

\---


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm slowing down the story a bit and not rushing it thanks to a few of my friends, and the plot's going to develope a bit slower. In other news; I'm now a fan of superbat and ASDFGHJKL; they are so adorable UGH. 
> 
> I think I'll do another fluffy one shot for my BFF; a cherik rivals to lovers kinda thing LOL.

_Peach Donut-Cupcake_

Erik wakes with a heavy head and a sluggish body. A quick glance at the clock on the table next to his bed informs him that he’s woken later than usual. It’s now nine in the morning, he’s missed his morning run around the Capitol’s grounds. He stretches lazily on the soft satin sheets of his large bed, and burrows inside the collection of pillows around him. He doesn’t want to get up and deal with the rest of the shit. He certainly isn’t prepared to deal with whatever other consequences the summit might have brought about. Yesterday’s events still sends a bitter taste running around in his mouth. Groaning, he bangs his head lightly onto the mattress in frustration. Erik is positive he isn’t going to escape the Cabinet’s wrath regarding his rash actions in the conference.

Then there’s Charles.

Erik has no idea what he has done to the baker. He doesn’t remember anything much from last night. He only prays that his infamous temper hasn’t driven away the sweet man. Erik was as good at apologies as he was at playing nice with humans. Not to mention, Jean and McCoy usually wrote his apologies when he needed to apologize to any human government (which was quite often).

After a quick shower, he dons his trademark ‘Magneto’ casuals. He wants to be extra comfortable today. His head is still throbbing and he’s too lethargic to make world domination plans. Therefore, Erik decides he’s going to do only minimal work today at the office. Stamping, and signing and occasionally stabbing Logan with the various metal fountain pens he has on his table. He’s also going to steer wide and clear of the Cabinet. If he’s going to die, he might as well die of the stupid headache, not K.O. by nagging.  

He’s not going anywhere without a good breakfast and Erik has plans to stop by at Charles' café for this. It’s the perfect excuse to see the man too. Maybe on the way, he can decide what look would say ‘I'm really sorry’ best.

As he walks down the stairs to the living room, he stretches out his powers to the kitchens and freezes when he notices the metal moving around. Someone’s doing something in his kitchen, which Erik only ever uses to heat up take out or make salad. He moves slowly towards the noise, so as not to alert the intruder when his foot catches on something near the sofa and he nearly dies of ‘TV remote in the eye’.

Then he sees the haphazard pile of cushions on one end of the couch and the vest. The dark mahogany color screams ‘Charles'.

Good Lord.

Charles had spent the night.

On the sofa.

Erik has imagined Charles in his house before, and in his bed and this is nothing like his fantasy. Erik curses himself. If only he’d been awake, Erik laments. Then he’d have woken up in a much better mood and with much better bed company. (Fluffy pillows are not as good as Charles is.)

Erik treads lightly into the kitchen and is stunned by the sight of the baker at the stovetop, flipping pancakes. His mouth waters at the smell and Erik gulps down the rabid hunger that rises. Where did the mix come from anyway? Never mind that, his brain tells him, this is Breakfast with Charles, just fucking shut up and eat (and admire).

“Good morning, Erik,” Charles greets him without turning around and Erik, who had been silently observing, nearly has a heart attack. “I'm making breakfast, I think you can tell. Be a dear and grab the juice from the refrigerator for me?”

Heart still hammering from the unexpected greeting, Erik grabs the guava juice from the fridge and pours two glasses for the both of them just as Charles sets down the plates. There’s syrup and whipped cream to go with it and Erik vaguely registers that there’s drool in his mouth again. Where has all this come from? Erik is starting to wonder what all Charles had brought with him yesterday night.

“You can start eating Erik. I however, want to wash up,” Charles says as he sets down the pancakes onto Erik’s plate. “Can I use your facilities?”

Erik stuffs a large piece into his mouth, loaded with whipped cream and slightly soggy from too much syrup. “There’s one upstairs, in my bedroom.”

Charles sighs. “Thank you Erik. I’ll be right back with you.”

As Charles leaves the dining room, Erik heaves a sigh of relief. He shudders as the tension in the room dissipates slightly and consequently from his shoulders. Although Charles' actions had been normal, Erik senses the discomfort. How was he going to remedy this?

By the time Charles is back, Erik is ready with a poorly constructed apology. As Charles enters the dining area, Erik looks up to begin his apologetic tirade and freezes when he sees the man. The baker has taken a shower, and the usually curly brown hair plasters to his forehead and rivulets of water still trail down the man’s neck and into the t-shirt. The large mahogany long -sleeve is Erik’s and it makes Charles looks impossibly fragile. It is exceptionally baggy on the baker, what with Erik’s frame being more built and bulky. Only fingertips poke out from the long sleeves and Erik thinks that this is far too cute. Erik groans, with all this sap, he could make more money as a sap tree than as a President.

“You’re not done yet?” Charles asks him, brows furrowed in concern. “You don't like these?”

“No, no, it’s the opposite,” Erik rushes to reassure the poor thing. “I really like them! I didn’t want you to eat alone.”

Charles blushes lightly as takes his seat opposite Erik and starts eating his share. Erik thinks it’s unfair that Charles eats cutely, delicately, and with finesse. Erik thinks about how he doesn’t even do this well on the battlefield and huffs.

“Erik,” Charles says cautiously, drawing Erik’s attention. “About last night, I act-“

“Charles,” Erik can't think of the shabby apology he’d made a few minutes ago. “I was upset and angry yesterday; otherwise I wouldn’t have lashed out. It’s not that I don't trust you bu-“

 “Erik,” Charles snaps and Erik slams his mouth shut, and thinks that he’s done for. He doesn’t want to lose the baker, not now and not for something like this. “It isn’t your fault.”

How could he save Charles when the other man didn’t even want to be friends with him? Shaw was there too now. Shaw would probably kill them all and Charles can’t even defend himself poor thing. If something ever happened to the baker, Erik cringes at the thought. All the problems that Erik has to face, and now he has the loss of-

Wait, what? Had he heard it right?

“What?” Erik gasped stupidly.

Charles frowns at him and Erik immediately feels guilty. What has he done now?

“It’s not your fault Erik,” the other man repeats. “You were distraught from the mishaps at the summit. I expected as much, but I thought you could do with company. I should have asked Mystique how you would have taken it should I have popped up uninvited and I did not. If anyone is to apologize Erik, it’s me.”

Erik groans mentally.

“You don't have to,” Erik says. “I'm glad you came by last night.”

Charles is eyeing him fondly. It’s endearing how much the baker has come to care for Erik in the past month, and how much Erik has come to care for him.

“I made you sleep on the couch too,” Erik tells him. On the couch. He’s made his crush sleep on the couch, and if that doesn’t scream friend zone, he’s not sure what else does. “And that stupid vest couldn’t have kept you warm.”

“I slept well, Erik.” Charles replies. “I was worried about you so of course I came. Why wouldn’t I?”

It’s unbelievable that the man actually looks confused as to why. Erik is thinking that with his abilities, it would take only a few minutes to craft matching rings out of one the many metal spoons that he has lying around his kitchen.

“I appreciate it very much.” Erik manages to get out before his throat is stuck with a rush of affection for Charles. It’s unfortunate that the baker can't be a part of Mutant World Domination 101, taught by one highly qualified yet not so sound in the mind Erik Lensherr.

Charles flushes again and this time his expression is sheepish. The baker’s pink tongue flicks out to moisturize his lips. Erik spends the rest of the breakfast staring at the perfectly shaped lips that glisten with each brush of the tongue.

\---

Eventually, he and Charles head to their respective jobs. Charles is running late today, but Alex is opening for him, as Charles had informed the café staff last night that he would be coming in late the next morning. After dropping Charles at the entrance of the Capitol, Erik makes his way back up to his office, where he is sure the Cabinet lies in wait to ambush him.

However, when he enters, there is no ambush. Every single member of the Cabinet and Darwin is seated in various places in his office. Darwin is on top of the bookshelf and Logan is sprawled on the floor, and Mystique is on top of his newly polished desk, right on top of his important papers.

Emma, seated at Erik’s very own state of the art twirling Presidential seat, glares at him.

“Explain, Erik.” She says icily.

“There is nothing to explain,” Erik huffs at her. Charles had made him feel guilty enough today. Services not required; Erik thinks as loud as he can at the telepath. Emma only glares harder and Erik swears he can feel the temperature in the room drop a few more degrees. “They did say some unacceptable things about experimentation.”

“What you did could have easily cemented our extinction at the hands of the humans.” Emma snarls. “You need to control your temper, or I will do it for you.”

“Don't you dare,” Erik growls back at her. No way she was getting her obscenely shaped nails anywhere near his head to control him. “Your diamond form is not unbreakable.”

“You gotta control yourself man,” Oh so now he was getting advice from Logan, act-first-think-later Howlett too? “We did a lot of work for this country and you could’ve fucked it all up in one go.”

“I did nothing that they didn’t have coming.”

“Erik,” Mystique’s voice is calm and has a dangerous lilt to it. “There are many other people on this island who don't want war. Are you going to condemn them all to that kind of life?”

“War with the humans is inevitable.” How many times does he have to preach this? Sometimes Erik thinks that he’s a kindergarten teacher since he repeats his points nearly ten times before anybody even begins to pay attention.

“It is not, Erik.” Mystique’s eyes suddenly harden. “What if Charles got involved?”

Erik’s eyes meet hers and he stands a little straighter, sensing something is off. “He won't. I'm going to protect him.”

“Sure you can bub,” Logan says and Erik cries out in his mind in frustration. Charles was not their business. “You sure you can fight a war and watch that pretty ass at the same time?”

“I'm sure Charles would fully appreciate and understand why you’re risking the entire mutant community for petty revenge,” Emma tells him sarcastically. “The man is a naïve, well-mannered baker. He’s certainly going to applaud you for dragging everyone into a war.”

Erik doesn’t want to think about that at all. He still hasn’t asked Charles about joining his cause and he didn’t want to either. What if gentle, doting pacifist Charles didn’t like what Erik was doing to Genosha?

 Even his own side of the Cabinet had turned against him. How wonderful.

“Alright,” Erik consents. “I may not be able to save him. But I can make this world a better place for our kind and Charles has to see that at least.”

Logan scoffs. “Yeah sure, we’ll see how that works out when you go out guns blazing and get us all killed.”

Erik wonders why the man is even complaining. Wolverine has an amazing regeneration mutation, which also means that no matter how hard Erik tries to kill him, the stupid thing will keep coming back. Not to mention it was also overly fond of Charles, always hovering right over the baker’s shoulder and disturbing his private time with Erik.

Erik just wants to finish reading today’s paperwork and stamp, sign everything he needs to and get home. He wants a relaxing day and this is most certainly not turning out like one.

“I’ll behave,” However by the various different forms of eye rolls that he gets, it’s clear to Erik that no one believes him. “I’ll try to at least.”

“You should try,” Mystique tells him. “Otherwise everybody else here is going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions. And that everybody includes your precious little Charles.”

Erik sighs, “I’ll see to it that Charles is under protection all the time.”

“You think Chuck is gonna agree to that?” Logan asks him. Erik has to admit that the Wolverine has a point. Additional security would only make the baker suspicious of Erik and if Charles even had an inkling that it was dangerous for the café and his children to consort with Erik, well then that was that. Erik couldn’t even kiss his cute café romance good-bye since it hadn’t evolved to that stage.

“Of course not,” Erik sighs again. “There’s not much I can do about that now is there?”

“Oh that’s so true,” Logan drawls. “Nothing other than playing nice with the humans and making sure you fucking don't make any more enemies.”

Logan’s words are highly sarcastic and Erik thinks he can sense a condescending tone to it too. Someone needs to remind that wolf of his place, and Erik wants to throw his hand up and yell ‘I volunteer!’

“Perhaps the humans are goading you into striking first,” Hank’s grim look unnerves Erik. “One wrong move on our part and it would give the humans enough ground to start a war with us.”

It’s a scary thought, and Erik can see the scenario playing out. Considering that Erik still can't keep his anger in check, it’s actually a decent strategy. Erik doesn’t let his unease about that particular statement show. They have other pressing matters to move on to.

“I’ll see how best to deal with them,” Erik informs Logan. It really helped in these circumstances that it’s he who’s the President and not Logan. “We also have other things to deal with now.”

“What else do we have to deal with?” Mystique asks him, genuinely confused. Erik remembers then that the conversation he had with the Professor had been in his head. Sighing, he begins to explain it to the Cabinet members.

Emma’s eyes narrow and pinches her cherry red lips together in a tight line. “Shaw.”

“What the actual fuck?” Erik snorts at the Wolverine’s language, but his reaction makes sense. “Didn’t he die or something back on the beach?”

Logan glares at Erik again. “Can't you do this shit right? I thought killing was kinda your thing?”

Erik sighs again dramatically. This sighing thing was getting a little too addictive. “Shaw’s similar to you. If he finds enough energy, he can survive anything.”

“Right. So can he even die?”

“I suppose. Emma can't control him fully, but we could try killing him while he’s unconscious or unable to use his mutation.” Erik frowns. “The Professor said Shaw has some sort of helmet that blocks out telepathy.”

“That maybe the reason why I could not locate him all this time, he had been wearing the helmet.” Jean says.

“I doubt he ever entered this island.” Emma informs her. The telepath’s long manicured nails click on the tabletop in a sickening pattern.

“Should we go after him?” Logan asks.

Erik wants to say yes. A thousand times, yes. However, given the Professor’s warning at the summit, he wasn’t going to rush in blindly like a fool. He’s done enough of that already.

“No,” Erik tells him instead. “We need to find out what the man is planning. Shaw knows both Emma and me very well. It’s not going to do us any good to go in so soon. He’d cut us down.”

Erik wants more information on Shaw. Knowing the man, Shaw was probably just waiting for all the pieces to fall into place before starting the domino effect. The man preferred to play his pieces right and sat back as everything crashed and burned into place. Shaw’s abilities were also far too dangerous for them to risk even confronting the man in a head on fight. If they were going after Sebastian Shaw, Erik wants everyone prepared.

“Hold on,” Hank says. “You said the Professor told you about Shaw.”

Erik nods. “Yes. At the summit.”

“The Professor spoke with you?” Emma asks him and Erik glares at her. “Do you realize it’s odd that the Professor knew exactly when to contact you? When he did talk to you?”

“He told me to calm down,” Erik admits. “When I was holding everybody down.”

“Erik,” Emma is livid, and her nails dig into her forearms since she has them crossed, and it produces ugly little dents in the pale flesh. “The Professor may be keeping tabs on us. How else could he possibly have known when to contact you as he did?”

Erik watches in stunned silence as Emma then turns to the other half of the Cabinet.

“Is this true?” Emma asks them, voice cold with disdain. “Is your little teacher watching us and listening to everything we say?”

 “No,” Hank answers her, and Erik is frankly _amazed_ at how the Beast is maintaining his composure. There are very few who can face the White Queen’s wrath. “He doesn’t intrude on people’s privacy, but the summit had to be successful no matter what. He had to take certain steps for it, and one of them included keeping you in check.” With this, Hank turns his gaze to Erik, who only glowers at him. “Your temper is well known.”

“I see,” Erik wonders what other secrets of his the Professor had gleaned from his trip into Erik’s mind during the summit. He wishes he’d had the opportunity to put up blocks like the ones the Professor has put up for his minions. It would help Erik in protection from the Professor, Emma, and Jean. “You certainly know a lot about the Professor’s moves.”

Erik can feel the sudden tension that the Wolverine develops in his hands. He can feel the metal rising to the surface as Logan poses his hands in an offensive position.

“Logan, I'm not saying that I oppose the man,” Erik rolls his eyes. He wasn’t that blinded by his need for revenge that he’d disregard what the Professor had told him and what Hank had reiterated today. “I want to know if he’s opposing me and my mutants.”

“Anyone in the right mind would either steer clear of you pal, or outright kill you,” Logan grins, but Erik knows that the conversation is strained. It usually is this way whenever Erik expresses his disapproval and ill intentions toward Genosha’s mysterious guardian. Logan more so than anyone else was always the first to rise to the Professor’s defense. “At least the Professor hasn’t gotten rid of you even though you’re not all that great at your job.”

“You’re more like a mascot.” Mystique’s eyes widen in understanding. “A powerful, intimidating one that will gather followers while Professor helps bind it all together. Takes care of it, like a fairy godmother.”

Erik is thoroughly disappointed at the reference. It should be him, not the Professor. Erik rages silently at the preference that the Professor automatically gets. It’s not fair, Erik laments, not when he’s moved entire football stadiums!

“Enough!” Erik thunders, he doesn’t want to hear any more praise for the Professor, not while they were seated in _his_ office.

“I want information on Shaw,” Erik orders the members of the Cabinet. “Get out there, and anything, absolutely anything; big or small, I want to hear about it. Shaw’s skill set include setting up elaborate plans. It takes a lot to get those plans in motion, and he’s not perfect.”

The Cabinet members group off after his announcement and file out of the office. Erik makes his way to his custom mahogany colored couch and plops down in weariness. He wishes the day would go faster so he could go and have food with his favorite baker.

Erik’s premonition tells him that it isn’t going to be so.

\---

Erik is pissed off. He’s had to miss lunch with Charles and teatime. Times like these, he spends hating his job or wishing that Charles worked in the Capitol with him. He buries his head in the palms of his hands, and groans loudly. He’s managed to finish just in time to drop by for dinner.

Charles, being a sweetheart, had told him that he could drop by for a meal any time. So far, it had become routine to have some meal or the other with the baker in the back room of the café where the staff usually took their breaks. Erik doesn’t want to miss dinner too so he shoves the papers on his desk randomly inside a file and unceremoniously dumps that too inside some drawer. He was going to the café.

It’s around nine thirty by the time he gets there, distracted only by the combined stupidity of Logan and a Sean Cassidy before. It had taken a while to get away from _that_. Erik wants to issue an order that keeps Alex away from the other two. He’s not sure he can handle all that and still be sane enough to protect Charles.

The café is almost empty, and Erik can only see a few regulars in the front of the café. His sofa is thankfully, unoccupied. As he takes his seat, he wonders where the baker is. He can't hear the soft British accent carrying throughout the establishment. There are not many people present so he should have been able to hear it clearly, when he had come in.

“You!” Erik rolls his eyes consecutively at the kid who had addressed him dismissively.

“You can't have Charles!” Alex states, and crosses his arms. Erik scoffs at the attempt to be intimidating. “I'm not blind you know, I can see what you’re doing!”

“Oh, and what might that be?” Erik drawls. Alex is practically Charles' son, so this is going to be interesting, he thinks. By the teen’s attitude, Erik can already tell that the approval he wants is not going to be coming his way any time soon. Oh well, win some, lose some.

“You wanna, you know-” The teen struggles for a second before spitting out his accusation. “You think he’s cute and stuff; and you want to do something about it.”

Alex actually flushes as he says this and Erik can only stare in disbelief. He couldn’t deny the _cute and stuff_ part of Alex’s statement however.

“Is that so.” Erik manages to get out. He hadn’t counted on the café staff being able to recognize his intention with Charles. He hadn’t thought about that at all.

“What?” Alex snaps at him. “Answer me! What exactly are you going to do with Charles, huh? Don't think I haven’t heard all those rumors about you!”

Erik frowns in confusion.

“What rumors?” Erik asks, and Alex must have believed his confusion was genuine as he cocked his head and scowled at Erik.

“Wait, hold up,” Alex says. “You really don't know? About how you’re popular with the ladies. And about the whole fuck and dump thing you had going on? ”

Oh, Erik thinks.

“I assure you,” Erik makes sure that his voice is low and seems like it is overflowing with emotion. “I have Charles' best interests in mind and I wouldn’t harm him.”

Alex is still eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yeah right,” the teen scoffs. “You probably say that to every unsuspecting chick.”

Erik narrows his eyes.

“If you create doubt in Charles' mind about me to keep him away,” Erik says, tone low and menacing and the teen actually squeaks. “If you so much as breathe suspiciously around him or I find you told him…”

Alex’s face is pale as he nods in affirmation.

“Right, right,” the teen reassures Erik. “Not a word, I swear.”

Classic Magneto charm, Erik thinks. Works every damn time and it’s easy for Erik.

“Alex,” Erik calls him as the boy turns to leave. “I’ll protect him, and the café, and…” For this part, Erik pauses, there is concern in voice. Why it’s there, Erik doesn’t quite know. “You all. I would not let harm befall all that Charles cares for. You need not worry.”

Alex is looking at him funny and when Erik tries to berate the kid, he finds his throat stuffy. Well, yeah, ok, maybe his pretend concern voice wasn’t actually _pretend_. Even then, he didn’t deserve that pitying look.

“You really like him then?” Alex asks him and Erik wants to bash the kid’s head in. Charles could probably hear all this from wherever he is in the café and this could end the sweet wooing Erik hopes he is doing. He wants Charles to like him for who he is, and not because he says sickeningly sweet things sometimes.

“Well, Charles kind of likes you too,” Alex says, and Erik’s eyes widen. Alex is Charles' adopted son so of course he would kn-

Erik’s eyes narrow as he realizes something. Alex is the key to understanding the baker! Alex is Charles' kid so he must know everything about the man. Here he was, unarmed and unsuspecting too, in front of Erik.

“Really?” Erik asks, trying to sound vulnerable. How does that even work? He’s never been that way. “What makes you think he _sort of_ likes me?”

What was with the _kind of likes you_ part? Other than having the man sleep on the couch, Erik doesn’t think he has done anything to warrant a _sort-of like you_ review.

“Well, you and Charles think a bit differently about the whole mutant war thing,” Alex says and Erik sits up suddenly, back straight and attentive. His sudden movement startles Alex and the kid is staring at him warily. Erik motions for him to continue. “Charles is sort of like a pacifist and like rainbows and peace and stuff.”

Brilliant, thinks Erik. Just when he’s begun to have dreams involving hot post-battle sex too, everything has to reveal itself. Now it looks like there won't even be a battle that Charles would attend.

“What about the things the humans have done to us?” Erik asks, curious to that answer.

Alex frowns. “You gotta talk to Charles about this, man. Sort this shit out ‘cause I don't want you breaking his heart. I know what Magneto wants and I know what Charles wants. You want Charles? You gotta figure this out.”

Erik gapes as the blonde walks off absentmindedly. What kind of a cliffhanger was that? What if Charles hated his views? Oh the horror. Erik is contemplating quitting his job and learning how to heat metal so he can help in the café kitchen. The Professor could even run the country for him. Magneto surrendering, the Press would have a field day.

When he breaks off from this unrealistic train of thought, Erik sees the baker making his way over to his sofa, food in hand. Erik is delighted. It’s been a while since he’s had dinner with the baker, and to have this right after the whole summit fiasco is a huge relief.

“I'm so sorry, Erik,” Charles apologizes, subdued as he places the various plates on the table. Then he sets a small bowl of soup down for both of them. Kitty, from behind him, sets down a few more plates and leaves. Charles is not wearing his usual café attire. Instead, he’s wearing a blue button down with a light grey vest and matching slacks, topped off with polished brown formal shoes. “I was out for a bit.”

Erik doesn’t mind, not at all. Not when he gets to see Charles like this, all decked up. This was wanking and fantasy material for a good two weeks. “It’s alright, I wasn’t waiting long.”

“I'm sorry Erik,” Charles smiles bashfully at him. “Kitty’s cooked a bit for us, I hope you don't mind.”

Nope, nothing to say, Erik thinks, other than _your place or mine_ , but that would spoil it all, so he swallows that little comment and shakes his head.

It’s silent as they sip their soups, which Charles informs him is lemon chicken and spinach orzo soup. It’s a mix of creams, oranges, and greens, which Erik enjoys.

“So, you were out for café business?” Erik asks, curious as to what else Charles did.

Charles nods blearily and Erik notices that the man is very tired.

“Are you alright?” Erik asks; concern blatant in his tone and he winces at the vulnerability he is showing to the baker. However, Charles smiles softly in a trusting sort of way and Erik doesn’t regret it anymore.

“I'm just very tired today Erik, thank you for asking.” Charles gestures to the main course set up in front of them. “This is one of Kitty’s best dishes; chaya brasserie filet mignon.”

Erik looks at small tower of beef on the plate. At the bottom is a thin layer of sautéed spinach. On top of that is a slightly thicker layer of grilled soba-stuffed crepes, which are a rich dark brown color. The filet, carefully balanced, is perched on top and is a perfect circle shape. The darker, almost blackish shades of brown in the filet, makes Erik drool. There is a touch of foie gras on the sides and the whole is doused lightly in stock or gravy, Erik can't really make out.

Erik lets Charles eat without interruption and several times throughout the meal, the baker slumps in weariness. Erik is concerned, since he’s never seen Charles this tired. They finish the main course in silence as well, but it doesn’t matter. Erik spends his time watching Charles eat, and offers his own spinach layer when Charles stares at his empty plate with an adorable pout. The adoring smile the other shoots him is enough for Erik’s mood to rocket through the ceiling of the café.

“I still made something for you,” Charles tells him and Erik frowns. Why had Charles bothered to make something when he was clearly so tired? Charles seems to take this the wrong way. “Oh Erik, you’re stuffed already aren’t you? No worries, you can eat this later.”

“No, no,” Erik reassures the flustered baker. “While I’m happy that you’ve made something for me, you look tired and it’s really distracting. You know I enjoy whatever you make me.”

Charles flushes prettily and opens up the plate of little muffins, or at least that’s what Erik thinks they are.

The cupcakes are small and don't seem like the regular cupcakes Erik’s seen. They’re a much darker color of cream and not as fluffy. Yet, the golden tint at the edges is still alluring. There is a thick layer of icing that smells like cream cheese on top, and it’s plopped down on the top in a spiraling blob. Covering that in a dripping layer is peach preserve, which has cooled down and resembles liquid sunlight. White cake mix crumbs decorate this. Erik thinks that this dessert reminds him of the feeling he gets whenever he’s with Charles.

 “Peach donut cupcakes,” Charles says fondly. “They’ve come out well, I think.”

Erik quickly devours one and licks his finger of the runny peach preserve.

“It’s great Charles,” Erik compliments the baker, watching him duck his head shyly. “The perfect end to dinner.”

“I wish I could’ve cooked us dinner,” Charles complains cutely, pouting. “But I'm beyond knackered, darling. You’ll drop by for dinner again?”

“Of course.” Erik does his best to look scandalized, but inside he’s crowing. Charles has just called Erik his ‘darling’. “Why wouldn’t i?”

“I mean,” Charles looks hesitant. “Soon, will you come by for dinner again soon?”

Erik melts at the sheer adorableness that is Charles. How could anyone, ever resist this man, Erik thinks. Maybe Charles' secret mutation is likeability. It would certainly explain the fan following that this café has.

“Soon.” Erik promises, and then calls Alex over. The teen has been hovering at the coffee counter and glaring at them for a while now.

“Clean this up,” Erik orders the teen, smirking as he receives only a scowl in reply. “I’ll get Charles home.”

“Erik,” Charles protests. “I'm not that tired!”

Erik frowns at him. “You couldn’t even stay awake properly through dinner. Why are you worried? You’ve been a guest at my home before.”

Charles bites his lips in worry.

“Erik, really, I’ll be fine.” The baker tries to reassure him, but Erik is having none of that. “I’ve just worked past my limit Erik, some sleep is all I require. Really Erik-”

“My house is much closer,” Erik says, grabbing Charles' blazer of the same light gray from the sofa and pulling the baker with him. “I think you should just sleep there, you look like you’re goi-“

Suddenly, the weight in his arms is much heavier than before and Erik sees that the baker has fallen asleep. Erik grins when he notices that Charles is clutching Erik’s shirt tightly.

Erik somehow manages to get them to the Capitol; hovering carefully half the time and other half; catching his breath. Once he gets to the elevator, the rest of the ride to his suite/house is pretty smooth. Erik divests Charles of his vest, shoes, socks, and unbuttons the pale blue shirt a bit before tucking him in. As he looks over the sight of Charles in his bed, Erik feels heat spreading through his chest and surprisingly not his lower regions. The sight is adorable and so homely that Erik wants to crawl in beside the other man and cradle him.

His phone ringing downstairs prevents him from doing anything stupid.

As he picks it up, he sees that it’s Logan calling him.

“Got something for me?” Erik snaps. “If you don't, then don't call again.”

“Wow, bub, hold up,” Logan says defensively. “We got something alright. The Professor’s been kind enough to do some research for you.”

Erik’s eyes widen. The Professor was helping Erik in this issue, after everything he’d said of the man in the press. Erik stamps down the unease that he feels.

“Shaw?”

“Yeah,” Logan grunts on the other end. “You should hear this.” 

Erik thinks of Charles, sleeping soundly upstairs.

“Update me in the morning,” Erik commands Logan. “I'm busy right now.”

“You with Chuck?” Logan snickers and the sound is ten times more annoying through the phone. Erik can feel a headache starting.

“How did you know?” He asks Logan slowly.

“Had a feeling kinda. You’ve never been like this before,” Logan says it matter-of-factly. “Real surprised you’re not here with a message on how we’re all superior and shit, and that we can handle this lame shit.”

“Yes we c-,” Erik snaps rather loudly, then remembers the sleeping man and lowers his volume. It is then realizes that he has no idea on how to continue, because Logan is right.

“You’re starting to actually realize what you really want huh?”

“What I want,” Erik begins hotly, but the line goes dead and he’s left with only the beeping sound.

Erik glances at the staircase to the upper floor.

Charles is probably the only thing he wants even more than total human extinction, he realizes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No dessert in this chap folks :( but the next chapter is 10/10 fluff of Erik taking care of Charles! Other news: I might write another oneshot in either Superbat or Cherik! 
> 
> VIP: Comment a cute, fluffy scene you'd like to see in the next chap and I might include it! ❤

Erik spends the rest of the night going through the papers he’d neglected earlier in the day for dinner with Charles. He’s glad that he’d skipped out on the stacks of papers. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, taking care of a sick Charles. The poor baker is sleeping, brows furrowing occasionally. Erik is unusually concerned. The smaller man seems to be in pain sometimes, moaning softly and thrashing but never waking.

Erik spends the rest of the night working on the reports, even as he continues watching Charles from his work desk just a few feet from the bed. He feels strangely protective of the younger mutant. There’s been no one else who’s ever made him feel so mushy.

He desperately wants to kidnap Charles and lock the adorable man somewhere safe. Somewhere neither Shaw nor a fever can harm him. Erik grapples with the strange emotions even as both clock hands point to twelve and his eyelids begin to droop.

\---

When morning comes around, Erik finds that he’d slept at his desk from the stabbing pain from his stiff neck. His head, barely cushioned by a stack of papers, feels heavy. He groans in pain at the uncomfortable crick in his neck and attempts to stretch out in the chair. Erik’s eyes drift to the baker lying in his bed.

Charles is still sleeping, curled on his side and with his hands clutching the sheets tightly. Erik sees that the baker’s forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat and rises worriedly from his seat. He makes his way to the bedside and plops down beside the baker. Charles eyes move frantically beneath his closed lids and his breathes out in short huffs.

Erik frowns as he lays his hand on Charles' throat, checking the temperature. Charles resembles an oven. He wakes Charles with a few gentle nudges to his shoulder. The sleeping man moans and swats Erik’s hands away. The baker is extremely adorable in moments like these, but Erik needs to wake the man since it looks like the man is sick.

“Charles,” Erik shakes him again gently, and the baker stirs. “Wake up.”

“It’s far too early, my friend,” Charles grumbles, turning his face away from Erik. The messy brown curls trail behind him and Erik watches the strands travel across the white of the pillow. Erik squashes down the urge to comb his fingers through them.

Then the baker winces and presses a hand to his temple, moaning softly in pain.

Erik watches him intently, worry gathering in his chest. “Charles, are you okay?”

Charles sighs, and crumples his hand against his forehead before drawing it back.

“A migraine as large as this country, I'm afraid.” The baker grins sheepishly, pulling the covers down. “It’s alright Erik. I get these often so I can handle them. Just a bit of rest will set me right.”

Erik huffs at the other man. It is obvious that it isn’t simply a small headache. He can also tell that Charles is clearly, in pain, despite the show the man was putting on, “You’re not going to work like this.”

“I'm fine Erik,” Charles reassures him, making a move to get up, the covers dropping to his hip. The baker’s actions are slow and tinged with weariness, as if the copious amount of sleep hadn’t helped even a bit.

“You’re going back to bed,” the hand Erik has on Charles' shoulder pushes the baker firmly back down onto the sheets. No way Charles is going anywhere when Erik is more than capable and more than ready to take care of him.

“Erik,” Charles says slowly. “I don't mind doing that, but I'm not quite comfortable sleeping like this.”

Erik flushes when he sees Charles pointing out his attire. He’d forgotten that he’d put Charles to sleep with the formal clothes from last night. It’s also very, very uncomfortable sleeping in slacks and a too-stiff dress shirt, Erik has experience here. The collar still looks about as stiff as hardboard and Erik winces. How on earth had Charles even slept with that? He’s going to have to find something for Charles to wear if he wants the baker to stay. Right then, his brain supplies him with a rather juicy image of Charles wearing Erik’s clothes. He short circuits for a moment seeing the image then grins at the unsuspecting man on his bed.

“The last time you were here, you paraded around in my favorite shirt,” Erik tells the baker and watches as a pink blush colors Charles' cheeks. “So I don't think you’ll mind if I lend you some more of my clothes.”

Charles turns his head away bashfully, and Erik can see the blush extend down his neck. He wonders how low on Charles it goes. “I'm really sorry Erik, I should have asked you. I assumed I was to wear it since the shirt lay out on the bed.”

“It’s okay, it suited you,” Erik grins at the man. “I just wish you’d worn the matching pants.”

Charles' face whips back to face Erik, eyes wide and mouth open in a little ‘o’ figure. Erik crows inside his mind. This is first time he’s even flirted like this with the baker and it looks like he’s caught his prey off guard. Charles' stunned, breathless look gives rise to something much more primal in Erik, who shoves it down and continues to smirks at the petite man.

Erik walks over to his larger than life closet (which contains mostly mahogany colored clothes and a little Oxford baby blue, now that he knows it’s Charles' favorite color) and pulls out something for the baker. Erik takes his time to pick out an outfit that he wants to see the other man in. When he’s satisfied with the selection, he walks back out to Charles, who is watching him worriedly.

“Wear these at home today,” Erik tells Charles. “You can take your time getting up. I have a late entry at the office. I'm not required in the morning unless a mutant emergency comes up. So I'll make sure to bring us some breakfast after my jog.”

Charles nods, still wide-eyed as Erik hands him the mahogany colored round neck that will once again be too large for the baker and black sweats. He feels satisfied seeing Charles draped in his signature colors. Erik leaves the man to change and sleep. He needs his daily jog to get his energy pumped up and he decides to go a little faster today, just so he can go home earlier to the Botticelli angel in his bed.

\---

When Erik returns, and an empty suite greets him. Gloom immediately swoops in. Erik feels crushed as he swallows the bitterness and disappointment that rises. He’s been looking forward to seeing Charles in his clothes and he’d thought that the man would at least stay for breakfast since he’d offered to bring breakfast. Thinking that Charles has left, he strides up to his room intent on changing his clothes, shower and then find the smaller mutant. Erik is not going to give up. He’s going to get Charles back here to rest even if he has to drag the man away from his café. Erik rips off the gray sweatshirt and tank, depositing them carelessly on the floor and runs his hand down one of toned arms, littered with scars from Shaw’s treatments.

He pulls off the slightly sticky sweats angrily, leaving him only in his briefs. Erik’s been working out a little more since he’s met Charles. He doesn’t want to disappoint Charles, and he very much wants to see that look of awe in Charles' face again. Erik grabs a soft towel. He’s reaching for his favorite bathrobe when a small cough catches him by surprise. Dropping both the towel and the bathrobe in surprise, he whips around. All pens, clocks, and door handles in the room rise in the air, ready for attack.

Another cough draws his attention to the bed. While the covers are somewhat flat, and the pillows are thrown around out, there is a sort of lump in the middle of the bed. Charles, Erik’s mind supplies and his mouth falls open in shock and relief. The baker is still here!

“Charles?” Erik calls out and The Lump moves, a head of unruly brown curls poking out.

Charles looks positively tired, eyes drooping. Erik thinks that whatever Charles has may have just gotten worse. When the baker speaks, his voice comes out choked.

“I'm so sorry Erik, but do you think you could help me get ready?” the man asks Erik before taking in Erik’s state of undress. Charles turns beet red and with an ‘eep’, burrows back under the covers. Erik is still in a daze as he grabs his fallen towel and bathrobe and rushes to the bathroom.

“Give me a few minutes Charles, I’ll just wash off quickly,” Erik calls over his shoulder as he retreats. Erik whines inside his mind, Charles has seen him now without the perfectly toned, six pack body that he would have had in a few weeks. Life is so unfair, he thinks, and Charles always looks like a naïve cherub. “I'll be right out.”

The shower is cold, fast, and distracts Erik from any unruly thoughts about the man in his bed. Erik is fresh when he steps out; scrubbed clean and smelling of his new imported scented body wash. The only thing he wants on his mind right now is how to help Charles recover. Right now, he has to be chivalrous courter and keep his hands to himself and his stuff in his pants.

Erik walks over to the bed, where the curled up lump is lying and shivering slightly. He extends his hand and pulls back the covers. Erik finds Charles curled up with the heel of his palms pressed tightly to his forehead. The man has changed and has probably even washed, but looks worse. Erik’s worries escalate. Surely, it couldn’t hurt this bad, Erik thinks, he doesn’t even understand what is affecting the man.

“Charles, do you need to visit the healers?” he asks softly. “Are you sure it’s just a headache?”

“Just a headache, Erik, thank you.” Charles mumbles, worrying his lips, letting only a bit of a keen slip through. Erik huffs, hiding the panic; and sits down on the bed, arranging and tucking the sheets around the shivering man. Does Charles really think he’s stupid enough to associate these symptoms with a headache?

“Are you feeling warm or cold?” Erik asks, in an attempt to accommodate the baker. He has a state of the art (state of the Hank actually) heater and aircon that adjusts by itself that would definitely help Charles feel better.

Charles smiles warily at him. “Does saying both make any sense?”

“It’s alright Charles,” Erik says softly. Then he notices that his hand is in Charles' hair, brushing it back from the baker’s face. Erik flushes and pulls it back. “I'll be right here, at the desk or downstairs, so call if you need anything.”

Charles' eyes show disappointment at Erik’s actions, but Erik is too embarrassed to continue with actions. Charles' tongue peeks out to lick his lips and he swallows slowly. Erik has come to know that this particular action often indicates Charles' nervousness in particular situations. He wishes that he hadn’t withdrawn his hand.

“Charles?” Erik asks again, moving his hand to massage the smaller man’s shoulder instead. The baker tugs on Erik’s hand, and he lets the baker take it, heart thudding in his chest.

“Can you, uh” Charles gestures with his other hand to Erik’s desk, vaguely. “Move them?”

Erik frowns, not understanding exactly how moving the desk could help Charles'' migraine. Unless Charles doesn’t want to see Erik, then it would be the perfect way to get Erik out of his line of sight. Erik’s mood sours. “Move the desk?”

Charles shakes his head and Erik thinks it’s a ‘no’. Erik sighs in relief, so Charles doesn’t mind Erik watching him.  

“Use your powers Erik,” Charles clarifies softly, and Erik realizes the man is pointing at the metal objects littered across the surface of his desk. “Your focus calms my mind.”

Oh.

During his days with Shaw, Erik had undergone intense brutal training to improve and bring out his powers. Erik had practiced, practiced, and practiced in order to finally escape and kill the man. The amount of control he has over the metal today is a result of years of honing his concentration. The reward is fine control, and while Erik resents Shaw for killing his mother, he doesn’t mind the fact that his powers are now unmatchable.

Charles, Erik knows, is a low-level projector on the lower side of telepathic gifts. Sometimes, the strain of using their abilities can leave them weak; Erik has seen both Emma and Jean weak. He knows how much this can torment the individual’s minds, and if he can reduce the pain Charles is going, he’s going to do it.

Erik focuses on the metal objects littered on his desk and raises them with his hand. There’s his stapler, pen, paper clips, and the paperweight. He raises them all into the air with his mind and gently creates an intricate dance with them, items weaving in and out of strange patterns, narrowly avoiding collision with the other objects. Once they settle into a pattern, Erik places his hand back next to Charles', which lies in wait. Beside him, Erik is aware of Charles breathing heavily and slowly, and rests his hand on top of Charles', offering comfort. Soft fingers slide in between his and squeeze gently. Erik draws in a sharp breath.

Charles fingers are pliant, leaving control to Erik. Erik brushes his own fingers on the pale skin, grounding himself as he speeds along the objects in the air. They move faster and zip around each other in blurs.  Erik is stunned at his control; he’s never gotten them to move this fast without hitting something or the other. The calm that he has now, he’s never had it before.

This feeling of being with Charles is probably what’s keeping him calm right now.

Erik sits on the bed beside Charles and plays with the objects until the baker falls into a deep sleep, fingers lax in his, and then tucks in the baker. He hesitates before getting up and then swoops down to brush his lips lightly against the sleeping man’s forehead. He’ll try to come back early from his meeting, but he can't skip this. Erik dons his suit and makes his way down to the lower levels to his office. Today, he’s going to deal with the information on Shaw.

\----

When Erik enters the conference room, he finds the rest of the Cabinet waiting for him there as usual. There a number of blue colored mutant records scattered on the oval table and the members are going through them. Erik feels the tension start to seep in even as he walks over to them.

“Erik,” Emma calls out. Erik pointedly ignores her and takes the seat across the table, he can feel the icy chill radiating off her and he isn’t wearing enough layers to be able to deal with that. The cabinet seems unusually solemn. Erik motions to Hank to begin the meeting. Information first, everything else later, Erik wants to know every single thing they’ve got.  

Hank pulls out a world map marked with red circles and arrows from the bottom of the pile, and pushes it towards Erik so he can see it clearly.

Logan throws the red marker over to Hank, who catches it deftly before turning back to Erik.

“There are things you will be brought up to speed on,” Hank tells him, and Erik is wondering how on earth all the members of his cabinet are finally working together. “Then there are important decisions to make, some of this information needs fast action. Are you calm enough to make them?”

Hank’s tone is wary and Erik isn’t angry at him, he himself knows what his anger can do. He grunts as a response, frowning at the urgency that underlies the statement. He doesn’t ever remember the mutant being this way. What had gone wrong now?

Logan points to a messy circle in Washington.

“Shaw just attacked a well-hidden facility that was conducting experiments on around eighty mutants yesterday, in Washington,” Erik can feel the adamantium claws vibrating beneath the man’s skin. “Out of the eighty, when we got there, only twelve stayed back.”

Erik’s eyes widen.

“And just a few hours later,” Logan continues. “The asshole invaded a bunker in Philly and drew out another hundred mutants. This time, we got around twenty. You see where I'm going with this?”

“The rest, the ones who didn’t come with us,” Emma says slowly. “Are all capable fighters. We were left with the young or those with minor abilities.”

“They also really hate humans,” Logan finishes off. “All graduates of Magneto’s Hate Humans Class Semester 6.”

Erik is beginning to understand what it all means. Shaw is collecting fighter mutants, and in large quantities. This means an attack. Small ones in different areas or a large concentrated one at a specific point.

“Shaw is recruiting,” Erik tells them, blood rushing.

Azazel nods. “Yeah, and it’s no small number either.”

“Shaw’s been taking equipment as well,” Mystique is uncharacteristically worried, and Erik thinks he can understand why. All that technology could actually harm the mutants if used in the right way. “We don't know what he’s planning yet.”

“The Professor?” Erik asks Logan, suddenly remembering the phone call from last night. He really wants to know why the Professor would help them. Logan had also mentioned the Professor had provided them with the information on Shaw.

Logan grunts. “The Professor is the one who told us where the attacks and shit would go down, and about the future ones too. But that’s all you’re going to get out of the Professor for a while.”

Emma winces at this, and Erik is stunned at the open vulnerability the White Queen is displaying. He’s never seen Emma display any reaction to anything.

“Why are you affected?” Erik snaps at her. If Emma has turned to the Professor too, Erik is going to kill her. Emma knows far too much, and he’s not going to let her go to the Professor’s side just like that.

Emma sighs uncharacteristically, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat.

“The Professor was injured when he was rooting the mind of one of Shaw’s subordinates for this information,” she began. “When he was injured, he sent out a shockwave, in his panic that incapacitated anyone who has a mutation similar to his.”

Erik’s eyes widen as he thinks of Charles, suffering back at the house. Erik feels the pool of rage roar from within, Charles was in pain because of this. He wants to go home to Charles now.

“Injured? How can he be injured when he’s not even in the field?” Erik thinks the man deserves whatever he got.

Emma’s eyes fill with anger and Erik winces slightly. He’d forgotten that she’s a telepath too.

“Shaw’s helmet prevents the Professor from looking into his head, but one of the subordinates had the some parts of the plans in his mind. The professor still had trouble accessing it, because the man was near Shaw, but when he did, Shaw was quick to find out.” Hank pauses. “Shaw put a bullet through the man’s head.”

Emma winces at the words. Erik is once again amazed at the abilities of the Professor, but the hatred caused by Charles' suffering overshadows his awe of the man. This shows clearly on his face.

Logan growls at him.

“You don't get it do you?” Logan snaps and Erik blinks. Well whatever, Erik thinks, the Professor couldn’t have had it that bad, getting thrown out of a mind couldn’t be that bad, he’s seen it happen to Emma. “The fucking Prof went through the death of that man.”

Erik only gapes at Logan. The Professor had died along with the man?

“That’s right bub,” Logan leers at him, and Erik schools his features back into those of indifference, but it’s a lot harder to maintain now that he’s heard the extent of the Professor’s injuries. “So don't fucking be too happy. Whatever everybody else is going through are just fucking little bursts of pain that he’s feeling after.”

Erik swallows his anger at the Professor.

“How is the Professor now?” Erik asks Hank.

Hank pauses in his task and thinks a while before answering cryptically.

“The Professor is recuperating at the moment and will not be heard of for a while,” Hank throws Erik a file. “Don't expect any new information regarding the attacks for a few days.”

When Erik opens the file, he finds a list of cities where there are bunkers. These, Erik knows from experience, are used to house mutants that the human governments experiment on. There are around six more, with dates written neatly next to each bunker name as well as the strength of mutants. The next two attacks are to occur on Wednesday, which is two days from now.

“With the force that Shaw’s gathering,” Emma says. “I can't help think that he has something large already planned out and in motion. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so careless.”

Erik agrees with her point. Whatever it is the man is planning must already be panning out. There hasn’t been a time ever that Shaw’s failed.

“There’s something more,” Jean says wearily. Erik takes note of how tired the woman is.

“They’re looking for information about the Professor,” Hank informs him and Erik blanches.

“Why are they doing that?” To say that he cares about the Professor is a lie, but if even Shaw is afraid of the Professor, Erik can't imagine what the doctor has planned for the telepath. He shudders at the thought, remembering how Emma had been pushed past her point.

Mystique eyes him blankly. “Erik, honestly, the Professor is the only person who can prevent this. He’s the one who can stop it even before it all starts, since only Shaw has a helmet.”

“She’s right,” Azazel agrees. “The Prof can hide himself really well, and control an entire city at the same time!”

Erik scowls at this.

 _Erik, maybe you should talk to the Professor,_ this is Emma’s voice. _We need him for this, ask McCoy or Howlett._

No, Erik says as loud as he can within his mind, we’ll be fine.

_You’re being stupid about this, sweets, you and I both know what Shaw is capable of, the telepath is powerful enough to take care of everything else while you and I take care of Shaw._

This angers Erik. He of all the other people; has the right to kill the man. Too bad Shaw was just too powerful right now. He’s going to get Shaw by himself, and he doesn’t need a Professor’s help to kill the man. Erik erects mental blocks and pushes Emma out of his mind.

“Shaw went to New York recently and was asking around about Prof,” Logan is telling him. “This isn’t good. The helmet is pretty dangerous by itself.”

Too bad, Erik thinks, the helmet’s mine.

“I was under the impression that the Professor was more than capable of taking care of himself?” Erik asks Hank, who exhales in anger at the question.

“Yes, he is,” Hank says. “But with the loss of his identity, the Professor will no longer be able to evade everyone as he’s been doing so far. This will make it easier for Shaw to capture him. Once Shaw captures him, it’s only a matter of time before the Professor will be forced to do the man’s bidding.”

Erik snorts. “What can Shaw do with the Professor?”

“A great many things which could results in the death of us all,” Emma says in a dangerous tone. Erik freezes; he’d forgotten what Shaw had done with Emma by his side, during the time before Cuba. “Controlling a telepath is an easy task Erik. Shaw has enough experience from his time with me.”

“What could he use the Professor for?” If Shaw could really control the Professor, Erik doesn’t think there’s a chance they can win. Professor X could easily incapacitate them all. The war would be over before it even began. Erik realizes that the side who has the Professor is most definitely going to win.

“The Professor, if controlled, can easily control all the other mutants and make them work for Shaw’s cause.” Hank informs him, eyes narrowed. “With the Professor under Shaw’s control, the attacks would be much more fatal than they are now. You shouldn’t underestimate the Professor’s skills. He could easily take everyone on this island on.”

Erik rolls his eyes.

“Of course not,” He decides he has to remind the blue furred mutant that he’s seen the Professor in action. “I’ve seen him work his telepathy; both at the beach and the summit.”

Then he frowns, “How is the Professor going to protect himself? What assurance do I have that the Professor won't get caught and undo all our plans?”

Logan snorts at Erik’s question.

“Don't you worry bub, the Professor’s not going anywhere and he has the best protection we can offer.”

Erik narrows his eyes in suspicion. What exactly does Logan mean by the last part? Is the Professor safely stored in a bunker while the rest of them are risking their lives?

“Alright,” Erik concedes, for now at least. He has to think of a battle plan to deal with Shaw’s actions. “See if you can prevent Shaw’s recruitment policy and Jean, you work is to interrogate the people who you’ve rescued and see if they know anything about his plans.”

Logan grabs Azazel just before the man disappears. They have a lot of work to do if they want to get there before Shaw. The others are filing out when Erik motions to Hank to stay.

Erik wants to talk about the Professor with Hank. It’s time to see how well the Professor will do with providing Erik information. Working together is inevitable in such situations, it seems, if Genosha wants to survive.

Hank takes a seat across from him, dumping the files on the table.

“When will the Professor be able to provide more information regarding Shaw’s plans?” Erik asks. The more information he has, the better he’ll be able to plan for this attack.

Hank bristles in rage at Erik, which is actually not that surprising since Erik’s disdain for the Professor has colored his words again. The Professor usually acts as an information bank, and this time is no different.

“He’s recovering,” Hank says slowly, anger barely held back. “He’s not in any condition to help us out right now. He’s given us more than enough and considering what he went through the recovery period will be much longer than anything he’s gone through before.”

Hank pauses.

“And I’ll know if you do something stupid, Magneto.”

Erik scowls at the man, how did he even know that Erik had been planning to try to contact the Professor?

“We need more if we’re going to have to prepare against Shaw,” Erik snaps. “I’ve fought him before and no one makes it out without proper precautions.”

“Work with what you have until the Professor recovers; your powers and past experiences should provide enough to cover the bases.” Hank replies dismissively. “You’re not going to get anything out of the Professor right now.”

 

Great, there goes his plan of dragging out as much as he could out of the Professor and forcing the man to join his plans.

“Will the Professor battle with us?” Erik wants to know how much of a coward the man is, to let others fight on the front lines for him.

“No,” Erik can tell that Hank is gritting his teeth. “The Professor is pretty useless with fighting, and he does better with his telepathy when he’s able to concentrate better without the battle going on all around him.”

Erik frowns at this.

“So if I were to bring him out on the front lines, he’d be more of a liability than an asset?” This is brilliant. However, the range that the professor has could make this easier to deal with than if it had happened to Emma or Jean.

“Alright,” Erik concedes. “He doesn’t have to come with us into the fight, but I want him to take part in it.”

Hank sighs.

“Oh he will, you don't need to worry about that.”

“Will what happened with Shaw’s subordinate occur again?” Erik asks warily.

Hank closes his eyes and nods slowly.

“It’s kind of inevitable for the Professor,” Hank tells him. “This time he’s only in so much pain due to the fact that Shaw’s helmet hurt him much more than anybody predicted it would.”

Erik says nothing. Seeing Emma and Jean suffer only shows him how much of pain the Professor must be going through. Then the pain that poor Charles is going through too. Erik feels worry lace through him at the thought of the baker. He absentmindedly wonders how Charles is dealing with the pain from the backlash of the Professor dying alongside someone. If something like that ever happened to Charles, Erik knows that no law that Genosha has can stop him from tearing down whoever caused it.

“Alright,” Erik ends the conversation, a sinking feeling regarding Charles growing in the pit of his stomach. He wants to head back home as soon as possible.

“Is there any way I can take care of someone who is going through the backlash?” Erik asks Hank, who is grabbing the files in order to leave. The other man pauses in his actions and looks upon Erik in pity. This doesn’t bother Erik at all. Charles' well-being is the priority, not his male pride.

“There’s not a lot that you can do.” Hank says softly, eyeing Erik. “You can try and calm Charles' mind as much as possible. But the shock of it will take time to go away and the physical repercussions are going to be difficult to deal with.”

Erik swallows, not able to process the fact that his little baker is going to have to suffer even more.

“What exactly are the physical repercussions?” he asks, worry for Charles coursing through him. Erik prays that the low-level mutant can handle this; even Jean had seemed to be in pain today.

Hank rubs at his forehead and sighs heavily.

“Charles is going to have it worse,” He says. Erik forces himself to stay calm and listen to what Hank is telling him; maybe he can come up with a way to improve Charles' condition if he pays attention and understands. “Headaches, flashbacks, recollections, and physical pain from the phantom injuries that the Professor has absorbed from the occupied soldiers during the battles will be there in his mind. He may be feverish and sluggish for a few days.”

“I think I’ll take some time off,” Erik says, taking stock of the massive list Hank has rattled off.

Hank frowns at him.

“Is Charles alright?” Hank asks him, worry in his face.

“He’s not doing very well.” Erik whispers. “I wish he wasn’t a projecter; I'm worried he won't be able to take this. I'm going to stay up there with him for a few days and see to him.”

“You really care about him.” Erik’s head whips up. Hank’s voice is soft and there’s a hint of admiration in it that surprises Erik.

“Charles is different,’ Erik admits. “He’s all soft and trusting, vulnerable; nothing like us. There’s so much good in him. I don't want him to be involved in this.”

Hank nods.

“I can see that you haven’t made any movements to recruit him,” Hank says softly. “You must care about his opinions if you’re not ranting about your anti human views.”

Erik shrugs at this, but his heart thuds in his chest.

“I’ve been told that our views are different, so I'm not going to push Charles to convert to my point of view. Charles doesn’t seem like someone who wants to fight all the time, but he must know my views since I’ve stated them plenty of times in the press and so far, Charles hasn’t said a word.” Erik states, mind recalling his conversation with Alex.

“I see. And what if the war comes to us, like you predict?” Hank asks.

Erik straightens himself, and looks Hank square in the eye.

“Then I will protect Charles and our kind,” he says, rage and protectiveness coursing through him at the thought of the baker. “No one will harm either.”

Hank appears satisfied by his answer and Erik can't help but feel as though he has just passed some sort of a test.

“Whatever Shaw has planned,” Hank says, pausing at the door. “We can be sure that it’s going to involve us. Whether it’s here, or outside Genosha, we need to start preparing for this.”

“We will,” Erik tells the man. “We’re not going to let Shaw succeed.”

\---


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this shitty chapter twice and both times it came out horrible. So I picked the one that didn't make me want to suicide too bad to post. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.
> 
> Also there's a treat for you all in this chapter!

_Cream of Mushroom Soup_

Erik wants to hurry back home but there’s the matter of lunch and he can't cook at all. He’d tried once long ago and it’d turned out miserable. He’s most definitely going home for lunch since Charles is there waiting for him, but he can't go home empty handed now can he? No way he’s going to ask Charles to eat the salads and cereal he stores in bulk at home. Erik had then decided to head to the café to see if he could pick up something for the sick man to eat. So here he is, striding down the street to Westchester Café so he can pick up lunch like a dutiful husband. Erik heats up at the thought, and ducks his head; hoping no one has seen the blush he most definitely has on his cheeks.

The café is not over crowded today as it usually is and it’s a relief to Erik. He hates waiting for Charles to serve him, and hates it even more so when Alex does it instead. However, with Charles out of commission it looks like he’s going to have to deal with the blond. Erik glances around the establishment warily, trying to spot Storm before Alex spots him. He isn’t in the mood to deal with the Charles' sort of adopted teen mess right now.

“Lensherr,” Oh good Lord, it’s the kid. Erik groans and tries to pretend that he hasn’t heard the teen.

Unfortunately, said teen is persistent.

“Hey! Hey, Magneto!”

He quickly spins around, hissing. “Shut up! There’s a reason I dress casually when I come here!”

Alex only rolls his eyes and Erik’s irritation spikes.

“Where’s Charles?” the blond asks.

Erik scoffs.

“I’ve kidnapped him to defile him,” he taunts the teen, lips shaping into a leer. “Charles can't even attempt walking at the moment, so don't expect him any time soon.”

Alex gapes at the saucy wink Erik sends his way and chokes on his spit as he tries to respond to Erik’s quip.

“You-you-” Alex sputters at him, while Erik crows in delight.

“Leave the kid alone.”

It’s a soft yet firm female voice. Storm, Erik thinks and feels relieved. He doesn’t want Alex to serve him, not with all the interrogation the teen does on the side. The kid always sabotages everything that he buys and he’s to get food for Charles today.

“Where is Charles?” Storm asks him stonily, sorting out the menus in her hand.

Erik huffs at her. She’s usually the one in the café staff who treats him alright compared to the others.

“He’s still recovering.”

Storm only raises her eyebrows at him. “He’s not at home.”

“He’s resting at my place,” Erik is filled with embarrassment as Storm gives him a once over at this statement. Gosh, this is like meeting your spouse’s family. “He’s not in a condition to move about.”

“He’s _still_ at your place?” Alex screeches.

Erik wants to stop and check if his ears are bleeding. He thinks it’s miraculous that the café windows are still intact. Alex is like one of those dramatic dainty housewives he sees on TV, who gasp in mortification at everything. Except in this case, he’s not dainty and prim so the scandalized gasps become shrill ‘I'm attempting to be masculine but I'm also really freaked out’ screeches.

“And he’s going to stay there until he’s better.” Erik takes great pleasure in telling Alex.

“You can't keep him there all the time!” Alex protests meekly, still terrified of Erik’s Magneto personality.

Erik waves his hand in a dismissive motion at the teen as he sits down at the café counter.

“I need food; lunch for Charles and something simple for me,” he tells Storm. “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to get Charles since he’s dealing with the telepathic thing.”

The white haired woman nods at him and then walks off, leaving him with the blond abomination. Erik huffs at this, pointedly ignoring the agitated teen beside him.

“What do you want?” he finally asks, when he’s had enough of the nervous tittering the kid is doing around him. Erik can see the teen glaring at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Why’re you keeping Charles at your house?” Alex asks him, taking a seat next to Erik on the tall stools. Erik can see that there’s something much more serious that the teen wants to address so he decides to be a bit more patient. After all, this is Charles' ward.

“He’s recovering,” Erik reassures, observing the hesitation in Alex’s words. “What do you want to know Alex?”

Erik is trying his best to be patient, but he’s worried about the part time baker back home. Whatever the kid wants, he wants to answer it fast and get home to Charles.

“How’s he doing?” Alex’s voice shows worry and Erik is surprised by this. Usually the teen pretends to be macho-alpha male and yet here he is, ready to cry for Charles. Now that doesn’t surprise Erik; even he would cry for Charles.

“Still plagued with a heavy migraine and he doesn’t eat much.” Erik pauses. “He sleeps far too much.”

Alex’s sigh is weary and tinged with resignation.

“No sign that he’s improving?” the teen ask weakly.

Erik shakes his head slightly in agreement. There’s been no sign so far, the migraine hasn’t let up at all. Erik dreads it getting worse than it already is. He’s not sure he can take it if Charles gets any worse; with the symptoms Hank had told him. Some of the more dangerous ones haven’t shown up yet and Erik wants to keep it that way.

Alex buries his head in his arms. Erik can tell from the watch the teen is wearing that Alex is trembling. He reminds himself that this is Charles' adopted kid, the intensity of emotion that Alex is displaying is normal for a teen in this situation. He remembers feeling this way about his mother before Shaw had shot it all to hell.

“He’s going to improve,” Erik says softly. “I'm the one taking care of him after all.”

The teens head pops up slowly and eyes him, Erik feels uncomfortable with the excessive scrutiny that he’s receiving today at the café.

“You better take good care of him,” Alex warns him, voice wavering. Erik only nods; he feels awkward in this situation. Somehow, he feels that enough though what he’s just said had been small and insignificant for him, it has affected Alex in an entirely different manner.

“Every time,” Alex says gruffly. “He goes through this shit every time.”

The kid is too lost in the vortex of emotions to tell him anything coherently. Erik is beyond angry that Charles has gone through this mess multiple times, but he doesn’t say anything to Alex. The teen probably feels too guilty about everything else. Erik is confused as to why the part time baker would go through this when he isn’t even strong. It could also be the opposite; Charles could be very weak and thus get affected by all telepathic movements around him. Erik’s head throbs with the confusing nature of the situation. He turns back to Alex.

“Every time?” Erik tries to prompt the distressed teen. He wants more information damn it. No one can give out a tidbit like that and then decide to clam up.

Alex nods.

“Charles is very sensitive to all of it. So it affects him more than anybody else here, that’s why it gets so bad.”

 Erik’s eyes widen.

“Exactly how sensitive is he?” Erik’s worried; if Charles is more sensitive than most, then he’s going to be going through more than most too. Then there’s the fact that the Professor had died along with Shaw’s soldier. Erik pales at the thought; Charles must be in severe agony.

“A lot,” Alex mutters. “I get real worried about him. You’re not making it any better either.”

“What have I done to make it worse?” Erik questions in indignation, but before the teen can even answer, a warm package slaps down onto the counter in front of him.

“Said they had a package for you,” a familiar voice tells him and Erik spins around in surprise.

It’s Mystique.

He narrows his eyes at her; wondering why she was here at this odd time of day. Were they all plotting something behind his back?

“Mystique.” Erik greets his, her icy glare making him uncomfortable.

Erik hates the inquisitive looks the shapeshifter has been giving him now that he’s begun courting Charles. He attempts to turn away from her when another voice catches his attention.

“So this is where you were in a hurry to go? It’s a bit unusual that you’re here, what with Chuck in your bed.”

Logan.

“He’s in your _bed_?”

Erik wonders what it will take to get the teen to stop screeching.

“Well dear, that’s quite an arousing image of the baker,” someone chuckles, agitating Alex even further.

“Why thank you for the aid Emma,” Erik tells her dryly, grabbing the package. He needs to get out of this throng of people and back to his penthouse and his Charles. “It’s really helped my case.”

“Your welcome,” Emma retorts cheekily, taking the green tea kitty hands her. “I just thought I should remind you that you have a sick charge to get home to rather than loiter here.”

Erik rolls his eyes at her, it’s not like he can't make out that she’s deliberately trying to rile up Alex.

“Why are you late?” Mystique questions him; voice slow and dangerous and Erik takes a few steps away from her. Why was she so protective of him, or is it Charles she’s so protective of? Either way, Erik wants to escape.

“You!” Alex cries out, attempting to be intimidating. He doesn’t do anything that outright annoys Erik and for that Erik is grateful. “His lunch is late!”

“It would have been on time if you hadn’t decided to have a heart to heart right now,” Erik snaps at the teen, who promptly looks guilty. Erik raises his eyes to heaven in frustration.

A hand on his shoulder immediately drags him out from the hounding mass and out into the clear. The adamantium in the hands tells him it’s Logan even before he turns around in surprise.

“Get home to Chuck quick,” the burly man tells him. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Erik feels his pulse shoot up from the tense tone of Logan’s voice and rushes out of the café without a second thought.

\---

When he enters the house, Erik can tell something is wrong. The air’s charged with something, something Erik can't identify. He quickly dumps the package on the kitchen counter before striding up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Even as he nears his room, the air starts to thicken. His instincts tell him to shield himself and immediately one of the lamp-like lights in the hallway becomes a small shield. Wielding this in front of his face, he enters the room. The sight that he meets with is not one that he had expected and it shocks him motionless for a few moments.

Charles' body, wracking with tremors, writhes on the pristine sheets that decorate his bed. Damp curls stick to the man’s forehead, which shines from sweat. Charles' lips are bruised; probably from the worrying the man has probably done to them and are bleeding red in some areas. As Erik takes this all in, Charles arches slightly and lets out a keen of pain.

Erik hazily remembers that the Professor had been in the mind of a man while Shaw had a bullet put through both of their heads. Charles probably has it worse than the Professor since he’s hypersensitive about these things. There’s nothing in the room that can harm him, so the metal shield returns to being a wall lamp, and flies back to the hallway.

“Charles!” Erik calls out to the man on the bed. There’s no response.

He makes his way to the bed and plops down beside Charles. His hands shoot out to restrain one of Charles' while the other cups the man’s cheek.

“Charles!” he says desperately, thumb stroking Charles' cheek.

There’s still no response, though the tremors have decreased in intensity.

“Charles, open your eyes!” Erik pleads, screaming it as loud as he can inside his head, hoping Charles can hear him. The hand he has on the baker’s cheek shifts to the back on Charles' neck, and Erik pulls the man up and cradles his head.

“Pl-“

A soft moan stills his plea and Charles' lolls to the side in his hand. Erik immediately moves his hand to adjust the posture so that it’s more comfortable for Charles.

“Charles?” he asks weakly, hoping the petite man is awake.

“Erik,” the voice is hoarse and tired but it rings in Erik’s ear like a siren.

“Charles.” Erik breathes in relief, hoping that the worst is over.  

Charles only nuzzles his hand tiredly, and Erik slowly guides Charles' head back down to the plush pillows. There are a few stray curls stuck to the man’s forehead and Erik pushes them back gently, and then cards his callused fingers through the tangle of Charles'' hair.

He hopes that the movements are somehow soothing Charles. The soft curls slide through between his fingers, damp from the sweat. The heat from Charles forehead, he can feel through his palm as he slides it over the baker’s forehead.

“What was that?” He doesn’t want to hear anything similar to what Hank had said, but he needs to know how bad it could get for Charles if the Professor attempted something like that again.

“Tremors,” Charles rasps. “That was the worst of it, so there’s only going to be smaller aftershocks to deal with now.”

Erik fingers tighten for a moment in the man’s hair before he remembers it is Charles' and he could be hurting the man. He stops his caressing movements and just lets his hand rest limply on Charles hair. Erik wonders in dismay if he’s missed any of the more intense tremors while he had been at the café.

Charles skin is pallid and there are dark circles beneath his eyes; from fatigue or exhaustion, Erik can't tell. Both have plagued Charles enough in the past few hours.

“i brought some hot soup with me,” he says gently to the worn out baker. “It would do you better Charles, to have it now.”

Erik is not at all pleased with the grunt he receives in response.

“Charles,” he berates the man. “It’ll be good for your throat.”

There’s another grunt and then Charles finally lifts his head from somewhere in the sea of pillows. He blinks his eyes wearily, tongue peeking out to coat his damaged lips.

“I'm beyond tired,” Charles says, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I don't think I can even hold the soup bowl.”

“I can hold it for you,” Erik protests, he’s not going to let Charles go back to sleep without eating something. “You’re going to have to eat something Charles. You can't just sleep through it all.”

Charles only huffs at this.

“I'll try Erik. I'm not sure how much I can keep down.”

“Even a little is fine,” Erik reassures the tired man. “Just some, so that you won't be all tired and dead when this is all over.”

Charles attempts to smile at Erik, though it doesn’t turn out quite how the baker wants it to, Erik can sense the gratitude in it, and simply smiles back.

“Come on,” Erik urges as he slides a hand beneath Charles' torso and adjusts the pillows so the baker can sit up. Charles lies limply on the wall of pillows and watches Erik bustle around him, adjusting the sheets. “I'll go fetch your soup, don't go back to sleep alright?”

Charles nods at him.

Erik rushes down the flight of stairs as fast as he can to the kitchen where he’s placed the food on the counter. He grabs the soup and transfers it to a metal bowl, heating it, and grabs a water bottle before making his way back up the stairs to the bedroom. He needs to get this in Charles as fast as he can before Charles probably passes out from exhaustion or an aftershock wracks him.

Charles is dozing lightly when he reaches the bedroom, and startles awake when Erik drags a metal chair and small table near the bed. Erik deposits the water on the table before seating himself in the chair and dragging it closer to the bed’s edge.

He hands the warm bowl to Charles, who raises his trembling hands to hold the bowl, but draws it back at the heat.

“I’ll do that,” Erik murmurs in embarrassment, and floats the bowl at just the right height for Charles to be able to sip from it. “Is it too hot?”

Charles shakes his head in disagreement and consumes the soup in silence.

Erik watches the man eat, much like he does on other days at the café and as he had done that one time Charles had been home for breakfast. Charles blows on the warm soup before sipping it between pursed lips rather than stuffing the spoon in his mouth. Erik listens to the soft slurps that Charles makes while he waits for the man to finish.

“I can't thank you enough Erik,” Charles says as he continues sipping. “I'm doing so much better with your help.”

Erik can't do much more than swallow and nod. He can't bear to think about how Charles handles these all by himself. His hands clench as images of a Charles lonely, writhing in pain on his bed, and crying out in agony, pops up unbidden and Erik’s chest blossoms with pain. Charles doesn’t deserve anything like this, Erik thinks vehemently. When he finds the goddamn bastard of a Professor, Erik decides he’s at least going to break a limb in retaliation for Charles' pain.

“How are you feeling now?” Erik asks instead, waving vaguely to Charles' body.

This produces a shy flush from the other man.

“It’s alright Erik,” Charles tells him softly. “I’ve been through worse, and like I said, you being here is working miracles.”

“Have you been going through these alone?” Erik wants to know desperately, wants to know if Charles has ever had someone to help like he’s been doing these two days.

“My sister usually helps,” Charles replies, turning his face away. “But as of late, she’s been quite busy. I think everyone here has.”

There’s a wry smile on the man’s face. Erik studies the pale, sunken in visage, taking in how exhausted Charles is. This isn’t how the man usually is and it bothers Erik, since he’s never seen the man this downtrodden.

“There’s no one else to help you when you go through this?” Erik questions in disbelief. He’s seen plenty of people fall head over heels for the baker; ready to do just about anything to help the petite man. He’s even sure that Alex must have stuck like a parasite to Charles during these times.

“They come and they go, Erik,” Charles says softly. “But no one’s ever been able to help out quite like you.”

Erik feels his cheeks heat up at this.

“My mutation?” Erik thinks Charles may only want him here since his mutation had been able to calm the baker’s mind last time. It’s disheartening that Charles only likes him for the focus that he brings with himself with his metallokinesis.

“Erik,” Charles tries to berate him as best as he can even when he’s lethargic and sick and curled up on Erik’s king sized bed. “You should know it’s much more than that.”

Erik clears his throat, trying to do away with the embarrassment.

“This isn’t something you should be going through alone,” he says, attempting to mask the fluffy feelings that he’s drowning in. “I don't mind taking care of someone who does more than required for me, and then for others who I care for as well.”

Charles flushes and some of the soup from the spoon sloshes back into the bowl. Erik steadies the spoon as well; helping Charles. The baker’s embarrassment is something that Erik finds himself enjoying, seeing a bit of life in the pale figure is making his heart do summersaults.

“Sorry,” Charles says sheepishly and Erik only smiles in adoration. It’s endearing how Charles is so soft and sweet; just like the desserts he makes. Erik loves the taste of the desserts, and now he wants to see if their creator is just as sweet. He reminds himself that Charles probably doesn’t want anything else complicating his life right now and manages to hold himself back.

Once the baker is done with the soup, Erik floats the bowl to the table as he hands Charles the water. He watches in fascination as the water slips past brutally bitten lips and frowns. That has got to go. If anyone gets to bruise Charles' lips, it’s going to be him, not even Charles himself. Erik then remembers that Emma had gifted him a rejuvenating lip balm not quite long ago and had told to improve his chapped lips. He’d promptly told her that his lips were chapped because of the icy winds she had been sending his way all day. He remembers spending the rest of day freezing his balls off; even under the heavy Magneto get up. Shuddering at the memory, he gets up and goes over to the cabinet where he had last stored the balm after finding out that it was a pleasantly scented vanilla flavor.

It’s still there, right in the front section of the drawer in the cabinet and Erik is delighted at finding it, for once.

As he turns back to the bed, he sees that Charles has once again sunk into the pillows and sheets and is struggling to find a comfortable position. Even as he returns to his spot by the bed, Charles finds a comfortable sleeping position. The smaller man is lying flat; tilted to one side with his left hand under the pillow his head rests on. Charles watches Erik as he sits down on the bed, and unscrews the lid off the lip balm.

Erik dips his right thumb into the small tub of smooth jelly, coating it adequately before drawing it out. He’s hyperaware of Charles' eyes on his face, watching him intently. Erik leans over Charles, his left hand on the bed, steadying him. He cups Charles' cheek with the rest of his hand, and with his thumb, applies the jelly to the baker’s bruised lips. Even bitten, the pink lips are soft and pliant underneath his thumb and give way as he moves his appendage across it.

Erik lets his mouth open a tiny fraction as his breath grows hot.

He brushes his thumb over the bottom lip, gently pressing on the cuts and flakes it has. When he reaches one end of it, he moves his thumb back and coats it again, rubbing the jelly in this time. Charles' lips fall open as well, and the heated air coming from the man’s mouth hits his hand in a rush. Erik’s arousal spikes and he shudders at the sheer intensity of it. Charles' eyes are flicking everywhere and Erik flicks his eyes to where the man’s hands are clutching the sheets, trembling slightly. Erik moves his thumb to Charles' upper lip, spreading the balm over it slowly once. As he runs his thumb over it again, he pushes the upper lip and moves it up, and immediately feels the heated breath rushing over his finger as he opens Charles' mouth wider.

The hot breath, coming from that dainty mouth in huffs only strokes his lust. Erik licks his own lip in anticipation.

He can't hold it back anymore.

Using the hand he’s been using to cup Charles' cheek, he gently tugs the man’s face up to meet his as he slowly leans down. Erik pauses just a few centimeters from Charles' face, leaving only a sliver of space between them. Both their heated breaths mix in this little space, and Erik runs his eyes up from Charles' lips to his hooded eyes.

Eyes still locked with Charles', Erik closes the last few centimeters and gently lowers his lips onto the baker’s, causing a small moan to burst forth from the man trapped under his body. It’s like nothing he’s done before, tender and caring. He lets his lips roam over Charles, soothing the bitten lips caught between his. He’s breathing in unison with Charles when they part. Charles is breathing heavily, and his tongue dips out to taste Erik on his lips. Erik groans at this. He can't hold back when his little baker is tempting him like this. His hand tightens on Charles' cheek, pulling the baker’s face up again.

Fuck it, Erik thinks, as his lips mold back onto Charles'.

\---


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HALFWAY MARK! I'm going to conclude this story pretty soon! Also, it's going to be my first attempt at smut in a few chaps so eh I'm not so excited :(

            

 

_Cereal with Apple Juice_

Erik wakes the next morning feeling a little too comfortable, and wound around another warm body. Panicking, he pushes back the covers only to sigh in relief when he sees that it’s Charles. Charles is tucked into his chest and has one arm strewn across his abdomen. Erik blushes beet red. He has no idea what to do. If he moves, he knows that Charles will wake within seconds. If he doesn’t move, he’s sure that he’s probably going to die of embarrassment.

He huffs and settles back down into the blankets. Blushing, he gathers Charles into his arms, careful not to dislodge Charles' own around his. It’s for his own good, Erik tells himself; this not only helps Charles but also heats up his body.

His mind sends him delicious images that remind him that there are other, more pleasurable ways to do that and Erik feels himself flush at their lewd nature. This is not the best time for him to be thinking such things, so he pushes those thoughts down and cuddles with his baker.

Charles doesn’t feel as hot as he had been yesterday. Yesterday had been a nightmare. The tremors and the fragileness Erik had seen, he doesn’t want to see it again. It’s not going to happen again, Erik tells himself, running his hand through Charles' soft curls.

Erik very nearly has a heart attack when Charles leans up into his ministrations.

“Morning, Erik,” the baker says slowly, yawning. He burrows into Erik’s shoulder and Erik freaks. The hot breath hitting his shoulder is too much; he needs to put some space between them, or he can say good-bye to his chivalrous image (not that he hadn’t done that already last night). “Why on earth do you wake up so early?”

Erik tries to answer, he really does, but when Charles decides to stretch, his brain just shuts down. The baker’s shirt rides up as he arches back into the pillows, exposing the flat planes of his abdomen to Erik, who can only drool at it for the moment. Charles collapses back on to the bed with a satiated moan, curling back into Erik.

“Today is going to be a long day,” Charles mumbles ruefully from Erik’s chest.

 “Hrrnh.” Erik grunts, too focused on the sensation of Charles' lips near his nipple. If he arches just a little, maybe that soft mouth will brush past it.

“Are you going for your morning run?” Charles asks him, breaking that train of thought.

He makes sure to clear his throat subtly before he answers, “In some time, yes.”

Charles' head comes up again, smiling fondly at him and Erik chokes on his saliva, the affection in the smaller man’s eyes unnerving.  

“I can't thank you enough, Erik,” Charles says softly. “You did more for me than you can imagine, over the last two days. Things would have been much more difficult without your aid.”

Erik only nods. He can't think of anything sappy to say in return, not when Charles' gaze is making him all sorts of embarrassed.

“Breakfast, Erik?” Charles yawns again, his hand shooting up to cup his mouth. Blinking at Erik, the baker makes to get up.

Oh, no way, Erik is not letting him get up now, not when there’s still a good ten minutes left until six. Grabbing Charles' hand, Erik tugs him back onto the bed, moreover, right into his chest. Charles squeaks as he rams into Erik, who wastes no time and pulls the covers back up and entwines their feet.

“Ten minutes,” Erik reminds his captive, all the while cradling him. “There’s ten more minutes.”

Charles' adorable flush darkens, and the poor thing attempts to hide by burying his face in the crook of Erik’s neck. Erik only raises a brow as he moves back, effectively hindering Charles' plan. Charles throws him the best puppy eyes Erik has ever seen; but it’s not fazing him one bit. Erik has plans.

Erik slowly rose above Charles, leaning over and placing one hand on each side of the baker’s head. Charles sinks down into the mattress, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Erik?” Charles asks tentatively; tongue licking over his lips again and Erik smirks in satisfaction at the display of obvious arousal.

He swoops down like an eagle on its prey, bringing their lips together. Charles' morning breath is bearable. In fact, Erik finds, he doesn’t mind at all. He gently pulls at the bottom lip a few times, nibbling on it before drawing back. Erik stays above Charles, running his eyes over his prey.

Charles licks his lips, and lets out a long, heady breath.

“Good morning, Charles.” Erik makes sure to drawl, and grins at the flustered man beneath him before rolling off the bed. From the long mirror, he can see Charles drawing in his lower lip and biting it. “I’ll wash up; then you go. Till then, I'll get us something to eat.”

As soon as he shuts his bathroom, Erik bites his own lips in order to constrain the hysterical giggle of victory that threatens to burst forth. Erik thinks, no, he just _knows_ being cute is Charles' secondary mutation, since it’s got him acting like a twelve year old with a crush.

\---

Breakfast consists of Erik’s favorite cereal (Captain Crunch) with milk, and apple juice. When he’d come down after his shower, (Charles had burrowed in the blankets, refusing to come out until Erik had gone) he’d found nothing extravagant for the baker to eat.

He’d searched the Westchester package from yesterday, and when he’d seen no breakfast material, he’d promptly panicked. He couldn’t even cook toast and even that he had trouble with.

Yet when Charles had come down, he’d opened up the cereal and poured himself a bowl. Erik had proceeded to gape stupidly as the baker ate them without the milk. (Oh the horror.)

“Really, Erik?” Charles had huffed, when he’d seen Erik’s expression.

So here they were, having breakfast again. Charles on his second bowl, mind you, and Erik on his second attempt to get his brain to start working again. He forces his gaze away from Charles and onto his own bowl of cereal, soggy and sweet since it’s swimming in milk and extra sugar.

“How are you feeling?” Erik asks tentatively, when the silence becomes too much for him to bear.

Charles frowns at the question, spoon frozen halfway in his mouth.

“Better I think, a slight headache but,” Charles draws out the spoon slowly and Erik focuses on the motion a little too intently. “I think I would like to return home and then to the café.”

A wave of disappointment crushes him and Erik mentally swats it aside, after all, he can't keep the baker prisoner no matter how much he wants him. Instead, he nods.

“It’ll do you good if you head out and immerse yourself in something.” Erik sees Charles reaching for the container of apple juice. With deft hands, he pours a glass for Charles. Making sure to deliberately brush their fingers together as he hands Charles the glass.

“Hn,” Charles voices his agreement, gulping down the juice.

Erik’s eyes are traitors, honed in on Charles' Adam’s apple, which bobs with each gulp the man takes. A trail of golden liquid escapes Charles' cherry lips, and trails down his chin. Erik desperately wants to lean over and drink it up with lips until they land on Charles', and then he’d push in, letting his tongue roam and taste the inside of that sinful -

“Erik!”

He’s startled back to reality by Charles' loud cry of indignation.

“Erhm,” Erik says sheepishly, hand pulling the nape of his turtleneck. “Could you repeat it?”

Charles huffs and rolls his eyes in mock irritation at Erik.

“As I was saying,” Charles rests his chin on the palms of his hands and stares at Erik. “I think I’d like to head to the café first, just to make sure everything is alright.”

Erik thinks Charles' obsession with the café might be as bad as his obsession with mutant world domination. Sighing, he resigns himself to the fact that Charles is leaving.

 “I’ll drop you,” he informs the baker, who is somewhat lost in thought. “I'm going down anyways to speak to Emma, so I’ll drop you off at the café.”

“Thank you, Erik,” Charles beams at him. “There is a small problem, however.”

“Oh?” Erik can't think of any problem with him dropping Charles to the café. That is, unless Charles was wary of the kisses they’d exchanged or maybe the man doesn’t want anyone to think they’re dating. Erik scowls at these thoughts.

Charles gestures to the clothes he’s in.

“I'm afraid I don't have any clothes with me,” the baker says ruefully. “I don't suppose you’ve washed the ones I came in?”

Erik sighs in relief. Now this is a problem he can solve, and manipulate to his advantage.

“I’d forgotten Charles,” he tries to make his tone apologetic and with the pout the other man gives him, Erik knows he succeeded. He’s going to milk this situation as much as he can, this is opportune for one of his more domestic fantasies, and he’s not going to let it just pass by. “There are some clothes of mine which I think may fit you. Take those for today.”

“Casuals?” Charles asks, pouting in distress. “I’ll wear my slacks, but I'm in need of a shirt.”

“I think you might even like these,” Erik says smoothly, deliberately avoiding the question. “They’re ideal for working in the café.”

Charles tilts his head in confusion at this.

“I'm not working at the café today, Erik. I'm just inspecting and then heading home.”

Even better, Erik gloats within his mind. He has clothes for something like this too.

“Never mind that, there’s something for that too.” He tells Charles. The baker’s brows furrow in confusion and Erik feels triumphant at the reluctant nod the man gives him. Plan get Charles to walk in public wearing Magneto’s colors is a go.

Charles eyes him warily.

“What are you thinking Erik?” the baker asks cautiously.

“Nothing, nothing,” Erik tries to avoid this question too; he doesn’t want Charles to figure out what he has planned. “What will you do when you head home?”

Come to think of it. Erik realizes he’s never been to Charles' house. He vaguely remembers the man telling him that the café staff and everybody else were housed in a large apartment or something of the sort.

“Talk to my sister mostly,” Charles, says, tapping his chin with one finger in thought. “There are some things I need to get caught up on and she’s only been putting it off since I’ve been over here at your house, love.”

Erik preens at the endearment.

“So when I head back,” Charles continues, oblivious of Erik’s swooning. “I think I'll devote much of my time to her, she’ll have my head otherwise.”  

Ouch, Erik’s rather glad that he doesn’t have any younger siblings. He’d much rather have an adorable husband by the name of Charles Xavier. Erik wants to spend some time together before he drops the man off at the café; so he decides to stall.

“Why don't you freshen up here,” he asks the baker, gesturing to the staircase that leads up the rooms. “You’re going to be at the café for a while after all.”

Charles frowns.

“That makes sense,” the baker seems to agree with Erik, pursing his lips at the thought with a look of fierce concentration taking over his features. “But I can't be too late, Erik.”

“Of course not, you tell me the time,” Erik hurries to reassure the man, not wanting to disrupt the schedule Charles already has in his mind, but at the same time looking for a way for the man to stay. “I'll be ready in a few minutes, so we’ll leave when you’re ready.”

This seems to adequately drive away Charles' worries regarding his itinerary for the day, and restores the man back to his sunny demeanor. Now, Erik plots; it’s time to get Charles into those clothes.

“Shall we head up?” Erik inquires, jerking his head towards the stairs in indication.

“Of course,” Charles says, rising from the chair. “These are actually quite comfortable Erik, but I'm ready for something fresh.”

Erik chuckles at the petulant tone from the baker, and follows him up.

They head up to his bedroom with the larger than life walk in closet. Erik doesn’t want Charles seeing what he has in store, so he makes the man sit on his bed and as he chooses the perfect outfit that will show everybody that Charles is Erik’s property; loud and clear.

As he scans the rows, Erik notes in dismay that most of his mahogany clothes are much too large for Charles. Then, he spots a darker shade in a deep, almost dull mahogany. God bless, it’s his favorite sweater; something that Charles would definitely wear. He near giggles with glee at the prospect of seeing Charles in this, this is beyond wonderful.

He grabs Charles' slacks from where it had been stored after the first night Charles had spent in the house. The gray color goes perfectly with the mahogany shirt and the sweater of a darker shade he has clutched in his hand. Erik thinks that he may have to purchase an entire new wardrobe for Charles in his trademark Magneto color.

“Here,” he says, handing the bewildered man the clothes. Charles lifts the clothes in his hands, inspecting them. “These will do?”

Charles nods; confusion still apparent on his face.

“If you don't mind me asking,” Charles' voice is hesitant and Erik freaks for a moment. There’s already a sense of displeasure reaching up from his chest, heavy and unwarranted. Erik simply can't process the fact the Charles may not like his selection and decides to stubbornly stare at the younger man with discontent in his posture. “But why on earth are all your clothes the same color?”

The baker looks up at Erik in mystification.

“There are a number of colors that would bring out your eyes and hair, love, and it’s not all in the shades of mahogany.”

 Ah, well, he can forgive that question, what with that compliment easily overpowering the statement.

“Really?” he says instead, raising his eyebrow at the huffy baker, who decides to retaliate by naming off colors that would suit Erik as he rises from the bed.

“Red, Erik, green is also quite lovely consi-“

Erik only chuckles at the man, pushing Charles lightly towards the closet to change.

“Just change, Charles,” Erik doesn’t bother to keep the amusement out of his voice. “I'll be waiting downstairs.”

Coiled with anticipation, Erik leaves the room. He can't wait to see Charles in this.

The soft oversized sweater he’s picked out is one that both the members of the café and the Cabinet have seen him in numerous times. Erik has no doubts that everyone will be able to recognize Charles in the garb and is already itching to see their reactions. Well, he mostly just wants to see Alex’s reaction.

He waits for Charles patiently on the sofa, knowing that the man dresses immaculately, no matter what clothes he wore. Charles loves his Professor/Oxford teen style with a passion and Erik had been told by nearly everyone in the café, that no one had ever been able to get Charles to part with it. Save for now, since he’s been wearing Erik’s clothes for the past two days, Erik thinks.

When he hears the soft footfalls on the staircase, Erik immediately snaps to attention. He turns his body to face the winding flight of stairs wrapped around a pole. Polished brown formal shoes appear first and then the slacks, Erik huffs at the slow pace Charles is walking down in.

When he can finally see the man clearly, Erik’s mouth drops open a bit from the sheer adorableness of it all. The dark baggy sweater reaches a little below Charles' belt and the long, loose arms show only the tips of his fingers. The v-neck lets the button down Charles has on beneath peek out; all the buttons done to the near top with the collar nestled straight and firm. Charles looks too much like a lost lamb that Erik wants to devour.

“It’s a bit large on me, I'm afraid.” Charles pouts, running a hand through his bouncy curls.

Erik thinks that Charles looks perfect. The outfit suits his personality impeccably; naïve, and hopeful.

“It’s perfect.” Erik soothes, letting his eyes roam over the man. The mahogany color only makes the brown of Charles' hair seems silkier, and the contrast is exceptional, it makes Erik want to card his fingers through the hair he knows personally is soft, for days on end.

Charles walks forward, patting his pockets to check for his belongings. He stops right in front of Erik, taking in the outfit Erik had chosen in a rush.

He’s taken Charles' advice and gone for something other than his usual color palette. Today he’s wearing a sort of matte grey suit with a black shirt tucked in. The top few buttons are undone for comfort. Erik thinks Charles approves, since the baker is currently unable to look away from his body. He grins stupidly at this.

“How do I look?” Erik asks, trying and failing to keep his tone exultance free.

Charles shuts his open mouth and swallows before smiling weakly at Erik.

“It really does suit you,” Charles murmurs, hands reaching out to straighten Erik’s collar. “You’re wonderful, love.”

Erik grasps one of Charles' hands as it adjusts his collar, and brings it to his mouth. He rests his open mouth on Charles' knuckles, watching as the smaller man’s pupils dilate as he lets his warm breath waft across them.

“Thank you for the advice Charles.” Erik breathes onto the trapped hand.

A breathy whine escapes from the man.

Grinning wide, Erik pulls Charles in by the hand until they’re chest to chest, and then wraps his arm around the smaller man, melding their bodies together. Charles is a perfect fit; the baker’s head rests on the crook of his neck with the soft curls tickling his chin. Erik takes this opportunity to run his hand up Charles' neck, cupping it gently. His fingers branch out and drag upwards, grasping hair and using it to pull Charles' head back. Charles trembles slightly, both of his hands rest on Erik’s chest, finding no purchase in the suit.

Erik eyes Charles with budding arousal, the baker is difficult to resist, looking lost and swathed in Magneto’s colors. It surprises Erik how possessive he is of Charles, usually he isn’t bothered at all with lower level mutants and here he is, completely smitten with the very same.

Charles' eyes flutter close as he leans in, anticipating the next move. This time, Erik only brushes their lips together in a light kiss, nothing more. It’s a ‘barely there’ brush of their lips. He rests his cheek on Charles', and deliberately lets his breath drift across the tip of the smaller man’s ear. His hand moves to cup the baker’s head.

Erik’s not ready to go back to the mundane routines of his life. He wants desperately for Charles to stay. He wishes he didn’t have to deal with the stupid, pathetic humans; too afraid of what they did not understand and destroying a gift in the mutant kind.

He shuts his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of Charles in his arms, melting into his chest. Erik takes in the scent of his favorite shampoo from the hair brushing his face and smells his musk radiating from the sweater that bundles his baker.

_His._

It takes all his resolve just to extricate himself from Charles. As they pull apart, he drops his hand from the other’s head, running it down over Charles' shoulder and past his chest, to his hand.

Erik grasps Charles' hand within his, leading the way out of the suite, looking back at Charles only once they reach the door. Charles follows, perceivably baffled by the affectionate instance. A light blush dusts his cheeks, the final touch to the Botticelli angel that Charles is.

“Ready, Charles?” Erik enquires, breaking out into his predatory all-teeth smile. “Alex may not let you off easy for staying with the big bad wolf.”

Charles laughs, light and soft, lifting the tension in Erik’s mind.

“Red and the Wolf survive together, love, in the original version.” Charles says, squeezing Erik’s hand with his.

Erik smirks, guiding Charles into the hallway and down to the elevator.

Time to get back on track; if he’s going to survive with Charles, he needs to take down the grandma. Or in this café; Sebastian Shaw. Erik’s mind buzzes with elation at the thought of peaceful life with Charles after it.

\---

Alex does not like it one bit, seeing Charles draped in Erik’s trademark color. He twitters around his foster father nervously, loudly proclaiming that it’s a bit warm in the café and Charles ought to take off the sweater at least. Erik is vastly amused by the shrewd tactics Alex is attempting to use. The blond pouts, scowls and glares all over a period of ten minutes.

Storm and Kitty greet him, the latter scurrying away after giving Charles a cursory look. Erik only huffs at her, sometimes the Magneto charm worked a little too well.

Storm is much more forthright with her reaction, turning to him and raising her brow at him,

“Really, Lensherr?” she asks, stoically.

He rolls his eyes at her, “No harm done, well, except him.” He jerks his head in the direction where Alex is fussing over Charles.

Erik has a meeting to attend, so he doesn’t stay to see the other’s reaction. Charles seems back in high spirits, as is normal for him.

He takes delight in the scandalized squeal that erupts from Alex when he brushes his hand down Charles' flank in goodbye before exiting the café.

\---

After he drops Charles off to the café, Erik heads back up to the cabinet meeting room. He’s missed out, on at least a day’s worth of information, since he hadn’t been bothered to keep in touch with the Cabinet yesterday after he had gone home to Charles. He hopes that whatever they have is good enough for building up a plan against Shaw.

He doesn’t want to be wrecked when Shaw comes for Genosha with full force, which he knows is going to happen. He’d decided long ago when he’d been made President that nothing was going to breach Genosha’s shores and the attack on the beach has shown him that he needs to fortify the island better.

Erik can't bear thinking of what would happen to Charles if the humans ever got their hands on the sweet baker. He grits his teeth at the thought and speeds up the elevator with a surge of his power.

Like most days, the rest of the Cabinet are waiting for him, already assembled and talking about the latest evidence they have amassed. Jean, Hank, Logan, Azazel, Mystique, and Emma; his ragtag little group does their best to control a small, haphazard country with little help.

They all seem on edge. Erik sighs as he sits down beside Logan, who doesn’t seem bothered by the tense atmosphere.

“What did I miss?” he questions, since all conversation had halted the moment he had stepped into the room.

Jean eyes him with trepidation, and Erik is astonished that she of all people is wary of him. He sends a reassuring gaze her way but she simply turns her head away.

Emma clicks her tongue in annoyance before tossing a set of files his way. Erik stops them from crashing into the table with his control over the numerous paper clips attached to the papers inside. The files seem inconspicuous, but Erik can tell from the tight lipped expression the telepath is giving that there’s more to it.

“Aren’t you going to read it then?” Emma asks wryly.

Erik frowns at her before gently pulling the files down into his hands. The first few set of reports show statistics of three more attacks on mutant housing facilities by Shaw in the last two days. Two had been discreet recruiting operations while the other one had been an open demolition of a New York facility.

The next few pages make his blood burn. Shaw had killed quite a few mutants in the recruitment process, and had left the bodies for Logan and Azazel to find. Shaw knows they’re on to him, Erik concludes. He also knows that there isn’t much time before the final attack now. Whatever Shaw has planned; it’s coming and its coming soon.

The last file shows an unnatural disquiet in the States, though by now Shaw has amalgamated a small army, enough to take over Genosha and cause serious damage to the Cabinet as well. There are a few places marked out as to where Shaw could be hiding his legion of mutants.

“Well?” Erik demands. They all stare at him blankly. “What have you done?”

“Nothing really,” Emma says, glaring at him. “We were waiting for you.”

Erik gestures to the files.

“Is this all we have?” he snarls, it’s disappointing how even with such high level mutations, there’s barely anything to go on about Shaw and his plans. “You managed to collect no other information?”

“And what you have been doing these past few days?” Emma asks him coldly. “Is your naïve, low level baker going to stop Shaw?”

Erik bristles at the insult to Charles.

“Leave him out of this!” he snaps at Emma. She has no right, Erik tells himself, without Shaw she would still be a regular telepath without a secondary mutation.

Emma’s eyes thin into slits; and she sends a psionic wave of pain into Erik’s mind. His knuckles whiten as he clutches the edge of the table, bearing the pain.

“Don't speak about him that way,” he manages to rasp once the pain recedes. “Charles has nothing to do with this.”

“He is the reason why you have been so neglectful of your duties recently,” Emma rebukes. “You’re going to have to limit your time with him. Leave him or learn to toil like the rest of us.”

Erik gapes at her, not able to comprehend the illogical demand she’s making of him. He doesn’t understand how leaving Charles solves anything, other than making him angry and lonely all over again. Now that he’s had a taste of the baker, he doesn’t want to go back to his old life.

 _I’ll remove the memory of his mutation,_ Emma’s voice echoes in his mind, _he’ll essentially be a human. Can you bear that, Erik?_

Stay away, Frost; Erik growls at her within his mind. Humans were not allowed on Genosha and if Charles couldn’t use his abilities; then he would have to be sent away. Erik’s chest clenches painfully at the thought.

 _I do not play games, Erik,_ Emma tells him, _I want this dealt with, and fast._

Sometimes Erik wonders why they’d given the job of being the president to Erik when Emma is clearly a much better candidate.

If I do this, he thinks loud and clear, I want time off to spend with Charles.

 _Alright,_ Emma’s voice agrees.

Alone, Erik reaffirms.

Emma’s gaze hardens even further.

_You must fulfill your end of the bargain. You see Erik, if you fail, I'm afraid I can no longer contain my displeasure with Charles._

Erik winces at the thought of Emma getting to Charles. Her ways of telepathic attack were nothing subtle.

“What do I have to do?” he asks her aloud, effectively informing every one of the conversation they’d just had.

“Set up defenses with Howlett and Azazel. Tighten the security; bring in more mutants to fight.” Emma replies blandly.

“Right, that’s good,” Logan nods. “We could start by getting our shit together and then working on what to do if Shaw attacks. The defense we put up now will give us time to think and then react.”

Hank frowns.

“If Shaw comes for us, we may need to house the civilians out of the way of the attack,” the blue furred mutant points out. “Erik can build crude bunkers for this purpose.”

Erik is staggered at the level of participation and coordination his cabinet is exhibiting. A common enemy indeed does bring everyone together. He wishes Charles could side by him in this war; but he can't ask this from the baker. Charles is low level and has a sister to care for.

“How many do I need to construct?” he inquires, brushing aside the thought, focusing on the conversation instead.

“Around three thousand mutants need to be housed, therefore,” Jean supplies, finally joining the conversation. “A total of four bunkers, modeled after the one that you and Emma were housed in.”

Erik remembers those bunkers clearly, and wants to steer clear from making anything that resembles the faux prison that Shaw had stored them all in. He just nods; signifying that he indeed remembers and leaves it that.

 _Direct the others, Erik,_ Emma prompts him, _tell them what they need to do._

Erik hates her giving orders, more so when she’s in his head. Her sharp, glinting presence is not at all soothing. He remembers with clarity the calm that the Professor had brought with him when he had been in Erik’s mind the day of the peace summit.

Alright, he retorts, let me think then.

Emma’s presence does not withdraw at his statement, lingering in the corner of his mind, sharp and fierce and Erik hates it.

“Logan,” he snaps, wanting to get this done with as soon as possible. Fucking go to hell, he snarls at Emma in his mind as he continues to bark out orders. “You’re with me; we need to find a way to protect the island.”

“Azazel; spread word to community heads about Shaw and the danger that is to come. Spread word regarding the bunkers; I’ll have them ready in a few days at the most. Better to be prepared than be regretful later. Emma, Hank, see what you can do about aid from the humans.”

He then turns to Jean and Mystique; whom he just remembers is present in the hall.

“Jean,” he begins slowly. Erik chooses his words carefully, mindful that both Hank and Logan are watching him. “Contact the Professor from my side whenever Hank is free, tell him I want to meet. When you’re not with Hank, do sweeps of the bordering waters, look for anything and everything.”

Jean nods, gathering the files with a wave of her hands.

“The Professor?” Mystique probes.

Erik dips his head in affirmation.

“We can do better with him,” Erik informs her, seeing her disinclination at the prospect of including the Professor in this battle. “He may have information and his abilities will cut down Shaw’s fighters within seconds.”

Her eyes narrow and she regards Erik with distaste.

“Why are you meeting him then? Why not tell him what you want him to do?”

The question makes everyone freeze and turns all attention to Erik. He doesn’t know what to say, he just wants to limit the casualties here. After meeting Charles and the Westchester staff, Erik has realized that not all mutants have abilities that will enable them to defend themselves from attacks. Some are barely useful in battle; like Kitty’s abilities to run through walls.

“The attack can be stifled quickly with the support the Professor can provide, and I need to be able to discuss the plans with the man,” he replies stiffly, answering only a part of the question she’s posing. “While the rest of us deal with Shaw and his generals, the Professor can take care of the rest of the mutants. I do not want any distractions when I'm with Shaw.”

“We.” Emma corrects him coldly.

Erik’s neutral feelings regarding Emma are slowly slipping. Her manipulative nature and capricious actions had always been an advantage for them, but here she is more of a deterrent. Erik wonders if they want the same thing; a Shaw-free world, or a mutant dominated sort of world. He doesn’t yet understand her; or the end she is grasping for, at all.

“I’ll try and contact the Professor,” Jean assures him, sending a glance Hank’s way. “I'm sure Hank can help out with it and drawing from the Professor’s attitude of dealing with us so far; I'm sure he’ll assist.”

Erik remains tensed despite the soothing words. He’s said some unruly things about the Professor in the media and in meetings. No doubt, the Professor has heard them all. Level five telepath after all.

An abrupt need to bolt away from the Capitol fills Erik.

Shaw is his worst nightmare and the Professor, his rival. He needs to deal with both in such a short time. Erik hates the anxiety and tension that’s coiling within him. He wants the comfort and serenity that Charles offers him, not this. Yet he knows that he can no longer hold off on the confrontation with Shaw, despite his qualms about their success.

The rest of the meeting is dull. Emma’s anger is no longer discernable, but Erik has no doubt that she will hold true to her words concerning Charles. He pays close attention to the details of the abducted mutants; Kurt is an important one they say, Rogue is another. He wants to see Charles again, so he decides to head to the café later when this is all over.

They continue deliberating systems to secure Genosha for the attack for a long time, Erik occasionally glancing out of the glass panels at the city, sending out pulses to try and locate Charles.

\---

By the time they finish the meeting, it’s well past lunch. Erik then meets with Logan and Azazel individually to converse about their part in the strategy. Their work is highly instrumental to the scheme so Erik combs through all the details painstakingly so there is no room for error. It drags on until early evening and drains him. The rest of the hour, he spends going over the blue prints for the bunkers Hank has sent him. When night finally arrives with a blanket of darkness sweeping over the sky, Erik is spent.

Yet he still hurries to the café. Erik desperately needs to see Charles, wants to eat his dinner together. He wants to be with Charles, not alone in his vast, empty penthouse.

He barely manages to keep himself from throwing the doors open and yelling for Charles. Instead, he stalks inside, and makes a beeline for Alex.

He grabs the teen by the shoulder and shakes him. Alex spins around, shrugging Erik’s hand off his shoulder as he glares at Erik in condescension.

“What d’you want now?” Alex snaps, moving back to the counter.

Erik follows him blindly, shoving past some of the customers.

“Where’s Charles?” he enquires distraughtly.

Alex freezes for a second before turning around far too casually.

“He’s staying with his sister today. I think he’ll be back tomorrow around lunch, so why don't you fuck off till then.”

The answer sounds somewhat unpremeditated, but Erik is aware that it’s not Alex’s usual way of dealing with him. Alex has just informed him that Charles has gone to his sister’s house and then said when said man would be back. Alex never divulged information regarding Charles to him, ever. It’s also odd that Alex is calm around him; usually the teen would be crying bloody murder whenever he came to the café.

However, the teen is uneasy and Erik can spot this elusive detail clearly. He can tell that there’s something wrong, but doesn’t push it. After all, Charles had told him earlier on that his sister was not the nicest of people.

Erik nods at Alex before leaving the café, feeling troubled. He still has plenty of Cabinet assigned work to complete tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is two days late; I was so insecure about the smut :( but here it is and FYI this story is almost doneeeee omg 
> 
> The flow in this chap isn't that good bc I did half and half between a rally we had at uni LOL so it may seem fragmented!

 

Erik snarls at the secretary currently hovering in front of his office door. His mood is worse off today- he just wants to finish his work and get to the café fast enough to catch Charles for lunch. Last night he’d done most of it and had come today expecting to get off early; but Emma had cornered him the second he had tried to leave.

She’d snapped at him, backing him right into his office, which he had been running away from, and then proceeded to dump an alarmingly fat pile of files on his desk.

“Your little baker has no shields to protect his mind from me.” She had warned before whirling around in a form of dramatic exit.

Erik had only scowled, resigned to not seeing Charles until after lunch and possibly only in the evening, but Emma had left a rather cowardly secretary to watch over him, so he’s been planning to scare her off.

He slams the report shut, leans back in his chair, and sighs.

His rebellious spirit is currently telling him to run out of the building, stare right up at Emma’s office, shake the metal rods to get her attention, stick his tongue out at her before sprinting to the café. Well, he thinks, minus the theatrics, it’s actually a passable (juvenile, his mind supplies) plan.

Erik springs up from the chair and rushes out of the office, using the paperclips in the secretary’s file to slam them in her face. As he pulls open the stairwell door, he hears the woman call his name desperately. Emma’s going to have a field day with this one, Erik thinks, as he slides down the metal railings.

He reaches the ground floor faster than any elevator could have taken him. It doesn’t take him much longer to reach the café either.  Once he’s out of the building, the walk to the café tones down his excitement. He doesn’t know whether Charles has arrived or not, but he’s going to sit there until the baker does.

The café is bustling as usual, and it warms Erik’s steel heart a little that Charles' hard work has paid off. He knew how hard the baker had worked to make sure everything in the café was perfect- that the customers received the best service, and that the food was exquisite. The hustle of customers always made Erik feel proud of his adorable baker.

He grins as he strides past several exiting visitors who are expressing their delight regarding the café very vocally. Still flushed from his excitement, he throws the door wide open, stepping in to the café, fulling expecting his baker to come barreling into him for a hug.

“The fuck, Lensherr.”

He freezes, pulling his puffed out chest back in, and crosses his arms. Honestly, it’s all so unfair, Erik thinks. Of all the people he runs into, it has to be Logan.

“Frost let you out?” the burly man eyes him in suspicion.

“I'm done with all the reports.” Erik replies curtly. Logan could be working with Emma to keep him away from Charles too. He’s seen the man be overly fond of the baker and always pulled on the adamantium whenever he noticed them getting too close to each other.

“What about the meetings?” Logan asks again, pulling out sweet bread from the brown Westchester package he has in his hands. “She let you skip that too?”

“What meetings?” Erik asks sharply, tensing up. If he’s missing the meetings; then Emma might be on her way here right now. Charles would be in a shit ton of danger if Emma arrived here and spotted Erik waiting for him like a loyal puppy.

Logan rolls his eyes.

“Nothing,” he says through a mouthful of sweet bread. “Thought she’d keep you in for longer. But you’re outta luck.”

“Out of luck?” Erik thinks that Logan is out of luck, considering the way he’s leading Erik around in this very, very important conversation.

Logan swallows, and then breaks out into a leer, “Chuck isn’t coming tod-OUCH FUCKING SHIT LENSHERR.”

Erik huffs in satisfaction at the outburst. Well, maybe he’d pulled a little too hard on the adamantium this time, but still, the man deserved it. Erik remembers Charles telling him that he had a bit of a tough spot when it came to dealing with his sister, but doesn’t remember the man saying that he would stay for long with her.

“And why exactly is he not here today?” he asks, dangerously, tugging again on the metal in the man’s body.

“Something to do with his sister’s work, god,” Logan grits out, grip crumpling the package in his hand. “He said he’s gonna take some time off.”

Erik narrows his eyes at this. If Charles was taking time off from his precious café, it meant that something serious was going on in the man’s life. Although Erik is drowning in plenty of problems of his own, it doesn’t mean that he can't worry about Charles. Releasing his grip on the adamantium, he drops his offensive stance.

“Who told you this?” he asks instead, watching lazily as Logan stretched his muscles, drawing the attention of a gaggle of university girls.

Logan winces as his elbow pops, “Storm.”

He tilts his neck back and cracks that too, eyes never drifting from Erik’s.

“Look bud, I know you mean well, but some things, you shouldn’t push,” the burly man warns him. Erik bristles at this. It hurt him that Logan knew more about Charles than he did, when it was him who Charles had kissed; twice even! “If Chuck wants to tell you, he will. Give it time.”

Erik glares.

“Do you need a restraining order?” Storm calls form the counter, breaking their rapport. Erik moves to her, ignoring Logan’s disappointed grunts.

“When’s he coming back?” Erik inquires.

Storm hands out a tray of sandwiches to Kitty before turning to him, cold as always.

“When he’s done with his work.”

Erik grits his teeth. He could never understand why the café members made it their personal duty to hinder his relationship with Charles.

“When is that?” he asks, trying to maintain calm.

“When he’s satisfied with the condition of his work, I'm assuming.” Storm replies.

What a satisfying answer, Erik thinks dryly. He stands there for a few moments, watching Storm lay out trays of food for Kitty to hand out. Neither female address him, so gathering his wounded pride and his shattered fantasy, he stalks back out of the café, seeing no point in being there.

Logan grins at him as he passes, raising a hot cup of coffee to salute Erik in mockery.

Erik pulls harshly at the offending hand and enjoys the yell of pain that follows.

He’s going to have to deal with that as his form of entertainment for the day.

The office is thankfully empty when he heads back, no secretary and no Emma Frost. Plopping back into his squishy swirly chair, Erik contemplates his work life. There are a new set of files on his desk, and a small black notebook, which Erik is sure contains more work than it can hold in its pages. He has no other option but to do this bland work since Charles isn’t here, so he sets about grabbing the files.

It’s the bunker blue prints. A blue sticky note indicates that he’s to meet Hank near the fields on the southern edge of the island in a few hours, after he’s thoroughly studied the blue prints- to set up the bunkers out for use.

Sighing in frustration, Erik pulls out the sheets to study them.

He needs to do something. After all, Emma had told him that he needed to get some tangible work done.

\---

He’d spent the rest of the day with Hank, having studied the schematics until his eyes had nearly bled. Emma and Jean had procured enough metal; some scrounged up from the nearby deposits and the others- lent to them thanks to Hank’s diplomatic tactics.

They’d worked for hours on end, Erik painstakingly correcting and rebuilding and tearing the bunkers down until they formed exactly what Hank had in mind. He was beyond tired as the sun began to set and the sky was swathed in dull shades of a dusky gold and blue. The dull baby blue reminded him of Charles eyes, and he occasionally stared up at the sky between tasks.

Only by nightfall had they finished. Logan and Jean had joined them, both helping out with the mainframe and infrastructure of the buildings until they were adequately secure. Mystique had brought them all refreshments. When the rest of the Cabinet had also come to help out and watch, Erik had half expected Charles to be with them. Each time he’d been disappointed. He must have broadcasted those feelings pretty loudly since Emma had eyed him in disdain whenever his thoughts drifted off to Charles.

They’d struck up conversation after the four bunkers had been finally finished. Boxes upon boxes of food had been brought in and a large cloth had been spread out- set out for an impromptu picnic. There’d been laughter and jokes all around, most of them at his and Charles' expense, but it had been a lovely experience. Erik had a thought, in the middle of all the banter, that it seemed eerily like the eye of the storm.

He’d also had another thought, which recurred to him at various points throughout the dinner; that Charles would love this little family.

\---

“No, we are not herding them inside the bunkers like cattle,” Erik growls. “That defeats the purpose of the bunkers.”

Emma is not at all pleased with him and it shows in her actions.

“Well then, Erik, why don't you tell me when Shaw’s acting and where,” She replies snidely. “We need to start shifting everyone now. I won't care much for the civilians during the attack.”

“I agree with Lensherr,” Logan barks. “What you’re saying is pretty fucking stupid. We even got tunnels connecting to the damn bunkers so leave it alone Frost.”

“He’s right,” says Mystique, surprising Erik; she was usually wary of his methods, albeit approving of his reasons. “We can't just imprison them on the off chance that Shaw may attack soon.”

“We’re adequately prepared.” Jean supplies from her usual quiet corner.

Emma snorts.

“You can never be prepared enough when it comes to Shaw.”

_She is right, Erik._

Erik sits up ramrod straight. There’s that calming aura in the back of his mind again. He recognizes it instantly, and this time he doesn’t try to lock his mind up.

Professor, he greets wryly.

_Hello, Erik._

He sees the plans for the bunkers flash before his eyes as well as all the information they had gained on Shaw in the past few weeks. The images are bright and vivid, bursting for a split second before fading. Erik knows that the Professor is only showing him these to indicate that the information has been taken in. Emma would never extend this courtesy to him at all.

Find anything, Erik asks within his mind, reaching out tentatively for the calmness at the edges of his consciousness.

_Nothing I did not already know of._

The voice is warm and appeasing, and Erik thinks he might have heard this voice somewhere before. The tone comforts him- he revels in the soft brushes the telepath makes across his mind while speaking.

An image of Charles pops up at the feeling of peace, and causes the Professor to pause in his searching.

 _Ignore that,_ Erik says, embarrassed by the sentimentality of the image of Charles curled into him on the bed, with his hands entangled in the soft brown hair, holding the man close endearingly.

_It’s quite a beautiful moment._

Overwhelming is the feeling of adulation and admiration from the Professor and Erik is genuinely shocked by these facets. It’s surprising that the Professor is affected from such an image. Maybe the man has someone who he loves equally as much as Erik loves Charles.

_Love is a powerful force, Erik._

I know, he tells the Professor, thinking of Charles again. The little baker means more to him than anything else.

_Love can change people, for the better._

And who exactly could you be referring to, Erik asks sarcastically, but his sentence contains no malice and is instead more teasing. It stuns Erik, how well they’re getting along.

_Myself._

Erik’s amusement flies away in a rush. You too, he whispers softly in his mind, suddenly understanding why the normally elusive Professor was now working with him to protect Genosha.

_I want to protect the one I love, Erik. We’ve got to keep Genosha safe._

That’s what I’ve been telling everyone from the get go and so have you, Erik reminds the man in his head, but you haven’t been so accepting about my methods of dealing with the humans.

_I disagree with your opinion that all humans are ill-natured, but I do agree now that we need to show that we can handle what they throw at us and that we will no longer bear this discrimination and the hunting in silence._

The offensive stance in the statement shocks Erik; this is not something he’d ever expected from the Professor. The man had never made such a blatant show of offensive strategy before. Whosoever the Professor had fallen in love with has really changed the usually neutral man, Erik muses.

 _Very much so,_ the voice tells him, and Erik is once again amazed at the tenderness he can sense in the other man, _I'm doing this for him._

Him, Erik questions.

 _He has a brilliant mind and an even greater heart_ , is all the Professor says, before thrusting new images towards him.

Erik sees flashes of a desert from an aerial view and more bunkers; this time, located somewhere in the massive dunes of sand. Shaw stands in a dimly lit room, talking to a few people; one of which he can tell is Victor Creed and another; William Stryker.

An attack, Erik states, seeing various maps of Genosha spread out on the table.

 _Soon,_ the Professor warns him, _very soon, but I know not when._

He grits his teeth as more images of weapons and missiles pop up and then others of various mutants training. There’s a Kurt, Angel, and Warren. Their mutations are strong, Erik notes from the images, but can be easily dealt with in case they’re up front in the fight. That’s what he has his Cabinet for.

The images dwindle down to only one, a view of the Capitol building, before disappearing. The Professor’s trademark soothing feel stays, however.

Thank you, Erik broadcasts.

A wave of adoration sweeps over his mind, surprising Erik. He attempts to reach out to the Professor but the man is gone before he can initiate contact. Erik thinks he wants to meet this man after this is all over; he’s done so much for Erik. He reflects on some of the ruder statements he’d made in the press about the Professor and cringes; talking with the man has given him a new perspective, and then there are Charles' views- monumental to the shift from violence and offensive strategies.

When he focuses on the Cabinet in front on him again, he notices Emma eyeing him in distaste.

“The Professor,” she says. “I'm assuming.”

Erik raises one eyebrow in mockery. “He didn’t speak to you?”

“I’m sure I don't have the appendages that he likes.” She drawls.

Erik wonders if she’d been listening in on their conversation. It wouldn’t surprise him, her more ruthless side was making headway these days, what with Shaw approaching dangerous territory.

“What did the Professor say?” Jean asks, confusion at the conversation straining her words. Her eyes dart between Erik and Emma.

“He’s given me enough regarding Shaw and his attack plans,” Erik tells her, motioning to Hank for the map of Genosha that the man has in front of him. Suspending it in the air with the aid of the metal rings on its edges, Erik begins to explain the information that he has just received. “Shaw has two bunkers worth of mutants, training exhaustively, located somewhere in southwest America.”

He points out the large agricultural fields Genosha has in the north in another hovering map, “He’s planning an attack on Genosha, maybe coming in from areas where we don't have that much of security and coverage.”

Erik frowns as he remembers the picture of the Capitol.

“He may be cautious of us, the Professor didn’t elaborate on the image of the Fortress at the end,” Erik informs them.

Mystique stiffens in her seat.

“Is he attacking the capitol?” she seems tensed and worried, Erik notes, unusual for his commander.

He has no answer to this, “I'm not sure Shaw would attack us here, the Fortress is my greatest weapon. With all the metal woven into the building’s infrastructure, Shaw’s minions would stand no chance.”

Emma nods.

“We’ll take sanctuary here.”

Charles, Erik thinks; he has to move Charles here, where he can protect him. As soon as the baker comes back, he’s going to drag the man back here to the suite where he can coddle the man and keep him out of the way of the upcoming battle.

“We need to make modifications if we’re going to confront Shaw here,” Hank cuts them off. “There’s too much glass and weak holdings that won't hold up the building if you tug too hard, Erik.”

It’s true. While it’s a masterpiece of metal and glass, it’s also a bit delicate. There is enough metal for him everywhere in each aspect of the building but if he accidently drew on the wrong sections of metal, he was sure to bring the entire building down.

“We’ll work on that after this,” Erik informs him. “I need to sort out the other details as well.”

“What about the defense?” Jean asks him, eyes furrowed in thought.

“Defense?” the Cabinet members are defense enough.

Logan rolls his eyes at Erik. “We need other people bub, to keep a watch out and not all of us can be here, we need to spread out.”

He has a point; by amassing all the best fighters here, they leave the rest of the country defenseless. He’s going to have to send out some of the people he has here in the defense stations. Shit, Erik thinks, realizing he needs to rethink his plans.

“You and Azazel,” Erik tells Logan. “You take charge of the defense, Mystique and Hank will take care of the civilians, getting them out of Shaw’s way and any other aspect of the bunkers.”

“Emma, Jean,” he calls them. “You’ll be with me here, in the Capitol. I need all your telepathic, telekinetic force focused here. Jean, you’ll work from a distance, I don't want Shaw to find you. Stay close, but hidden.”

“How?” Jean inquires. “I need to be close if I'm going to be dealing with him.”

Erik looks about the room, “I'm sure I can figure something out, it’s all just metal here.”

She nods her assent.

“What do we do about the civilians then?” Hank asks him. “Shall we start getting them inside the bunkers?”

The Professor hadn’t given him an exact date or time of the attack, but had mentioned that it would be very soon. Erik estimates that it would probably happen in the next few days or the coming week.

“Start now, right now,” Erik commands. “I want to be prepared.”

_Erik, tell Logan about Stryker and Creed. I think you’ll find him better equipped to deal with them._

The presence is back, and the Professor sends a wave of calm to soothe his disarrayed thoughts.

“Logan,” Erik draws the man’s attention. “Shaw has Stryker and Creed with him. I’ve been told you can deal with them?”

Logan stiffens, claws rising and lowering within the gap between his knuckles. The agitation surprises Erik. He suddenly wants to know who these men are, to elicit such a volatile response from the usually lazy man.

“They coming with Shaw?” Logan asks.

Erik nods.

_Get rid of them first; it won't do you any good if you can't get them out of the way before you confront Shaw._

Erik breathes in heavily, letting the Professor’s presence pacify him.

Right, Erik says in his mind, they can't be that bad, Logan is an accomplished fighter.

_There are some things that can affect even the strongest of us, Erik, and for him, these men are exactly that._

Much like ours is our lovers, Erik asks the Professor dryly.

_Very much so._

Do me a favor, Erik snaps suddenly, worry rising in his mind. Look out for a baker by the name of Charles. He runs Westchester Café; I'm sure you’ve heard of it. I know I have not been pleasant to work with, but at least this you could do for me.

There’s a pause. Erik holds his breath, not wanting to think of the possibility that the Professor would refuse what he’s asking.

_Alright._

Breathing a sigh of relief, Erik turns back to the meeting, more focused now that he has something planned for his baker. The Professor retreats from his mind.

The rest of the meeting flashes before his eyes. They plan the defenses and the strategies to corner Shaw should he come in from a variety of places. Erik fine tunes their schemes, working out people’s flaws and making sure to use each mutation in his garrison to its utmost capability.

When it ends, everyone feels much better about his or her chances regarding the upcoming attack. Erik makes sure to send a silent thank you to the Professor for giving him all the crucial information. He does not get a reply in return, and chalks it up to the Professor being busy. He rather likes the soothing feel of talking to the other man; it makes him relax and feel comfortable, somewhat like how he feels with Charles.

He strides out of the room, dead set on heading home for a long, undisturbed night of sleep. He wants to be ready for Shaw and proper sleep does more for him than any form of training. As soon as he steps out, he sees Logan hovering at the end of the corridor, and growls in frustration at the man. Honestly, no one ever left him alone.

“Lensherr,” the man calls him over with a wave of his hand. “C’mere.”

Well, what the heck, Erik thinks and walks over. The elevator and the stairwell are right here in case he needs to get away or murder the man.

“What do you want?” he asks, impatient to get to his penthouse.

“Oh, this is good,” Logan wiggles his brows at him, leering. “You don't know.”

Erik watches in irritation as the man chortles, leaning on the wall heavily.

“What should I know?” he asks slowly so Logan can at least try to comprehend the simple sentence.

“Well, it’s sad, you know,” Logan gasps, hand on his abdomen. “Thought you’d give lover boy a nice ‘welcome home’ sort of thing.”

“Lover boy?” Erik is a little confused now, to be honest. What Logan was referring to, he couldn’t even fathom.

“Didn’t you know? Your little lamb is back.” Logan smirks.

What the fuck. Charles was back and he hadn’t bothered to tell Erik, or at least come up to visit him in the office. Come to think of it. Charles had not come even once to his office floors, they’d only ever gone straight up to the penthouse.

With a jealous rage he didn’t know he had, Erik slams Logan to the wall and pulls the elevator up. as the doors bing open, he steps in calmly, winding metal around Logan to keep him stuck to the wall.

“You’re not following me.” Erik informs him as the metal doors slam shut.

The moment he’s out of the building, he stretches his powers out to the café, finding comfort in the feel of Charles' watch and surprisingly, his cufflinks. Tugging on them lightly, he begins to jog to the café, shattering a streetlight with his fluctuating powers as he hurries to the café.

Charles.

He can't wait to see the man. He’s been drowning in tension and anxiety the past few days and he wants the comfort that Charles brings. There’s the matter of Shaw’s attack and getting Charles to stay inside the capitol building as well.

Erik sprints faster as he spots the brightly lit café coming up. Not bothering with the horde of cars that honk at him, he crosses the road in urgency, slowly down only as he reaches the café’s glass doors. Thankfully, there are very few people in the café and there seems to be a gathering of staff members near the counter.

He enters the café, scanning the premises for the familiar head of wavy brown hair. Not spotting it, he moves to the counter, entering the squabble of staff.

“I knew you were going to come,” Alex huffs, spotting him quick enough.  “No way you were going to stay away, I _told_ them.”

Erik rolls his eyes at the irate teen and shoves past him, but doesn’t spot Charles anywhere.

“He’s in the back room.”

Erik whips around, nearly colliding with Storm. She has the same disinterested look plastered on her face, but her voice is low, and dangerous. He huffs at her in thanks and moves to the back corridor in the café.

He rushes; footsteps heavy on the tiles in the dimly lit corridor. Erik is more than disappointed that he hasn’t been informed of Charles arrival back at the café and the capitol. It’s a dense mix of tension and frustration. As he makes his way down the long hallway, he comes across a door spilling light across the floor.

There’s no sound coming from inside, but still Erik moves forward, pushing the door open and barging inside.

“Charles.” he chokes out, seeing the man’s back blocking out the light in the room, bent over a desk.

The smaller man turns to him, face morphed in an expression of shock.

“Erik?” Charles asks tentatively, as if Erik has never come to the café to visit him before today.

Erik wants to accuse him of so many things. Wants to yell at Charles for not informing him the minute he had come back home, wants to shout about not maintaining contact while he had been gone, wants to strangle the man for telling Logan what he’d been up to but not Erik. There’s anger building up from these thoughts, and Erik desperately shoves it back, not wanting to set off the baker.

“You’re late.” He says instead, trying to show that he’s upset, but accepting of it as well.

Charles winces at his tone, looking away in guilt.

Serves him right, Erik thinks for a moment.

“I'm sorry, Erik.” Charles apologizes blearily, rubbing at his forehead. “I was caught up, and I couldn’t get away and I had no way of contacting anybody. I'm sorry.”

Erik notes that Charles looks tired and miserable, and wonders what the man had been up to in his three days away. Something to do with the man’s mutation, Erik thinks, since he keeps rubbing at his forehead and grimacing.

“Are you alright?” Erik asks, eyeing the lethargic movements.

Charles only sighs, “I'm just tired, Erik. I’ve been working all the days I was gone, and I haven’t rested.”

“Come home.” Erik says suddenly, wanting more than anything to spend another night with the baker, never mind the fact the he was still somewhat pissed with him. “We can talk about everything there.”

“Erik,” Charles hesitates, but Erik can make out that the baker at least finds the idea appealing from the way Charles is staring at him. “Erik, I have things I need to attend to.”

“Fuck it,” Erik swears at the man in irritation. “Just one night won't hurt. You look too tired to do any good work anyway.”

“I can't just drop everything Erik,” the words are resigned and blunt, a tone Erik has never heard from Charles before. His worry only escalates as he watches the man rub at his forehead in pain, face scrunched up. “There are things to deal with.”

Erik finds that he doesn’t care.

“Charles,” he calls out softly. “This may be the last time I can see you like this for a while. Please.”

He’ll say it over and over. No one is sure of when Shaw is going to attack and Erik doesn’t know when he’s going to get time to spend with Charles after the attack; considering the general was fond of destruction, he would most definitely destroy at least half of Genosha before he left.

Charles doesn’t look like he’s going to cave in, even as he gazes at Erik tentatively.

“Erik,” that darned lower lip is drawn in and nibbled on as the man contemplates the choice that Erik is offering. Charles' eyes flicker to Erik occasionally as he debates with himself. Erik can see that it’s a losing battle; whatever the thing is that’s occupying the baker seeming to win him over. “I can't.”

Desperation floods through him, he’s taken aback by the rejection. Erik stares dumbly at the guilty expression on Charles' face. Charles eyes him in guilt, ignoring the papers that he’d been working on when Erik had first barged in. Refusing to accept the rejection, Erik acts on his urges.

As Erik surges forward, Charles takes a step back, but the desk cuts into his hips, stopping him. He’s trapped effectively between Erik and desk- it’s uncomfortable for the both of them. Erik swats away the pen Charles has in his hands and cocoons the man in his arms. One of his hands trail up the lean body, tangling into the curly mocha hair, caressing it harshly, draws a strangled sound from the back of his captive’s throat. Erik leans down, burying his face in the soft hair and inhales Charles' musk. He moves downward to the crook of Charles' neck, drawing in the scent with his nose and open mouth, before resting his head there. The musk is particularly overpowering here, invading all his senses.

Erik groans in arousal against the skin, tightening his hands in the baker’s hair and clothes.

He pulls away to look at Charles.

There’s a delightful pink blush dusting across the freckled face of the man, head held back by Erik’s hand. The open mouth is enticing, perfect ruby lips spread out in invitation for Erik’s own to slide in. Erik can hear the heavy breathing in the silence of the backroom. He shifts, effectively enveloping Charles in his arms, before bringing his lips onto Charles, kissing him fiercely. He’s not soft on the baker; he tastes everything, sucking and pulling greedily. Charles quakes weakly in his grasp, hands bracing himself on the desk behind him.

It’s rough and hard and leaves them both gasping for breath- Erik trembling, and Charles slumped against the desk. Erik’s heart is thumping painfully- the heady rush making him dizzy. It’s not nearly enough, Erik thinks, hands blindly grasping at Charles' thighs, pushing the man onto the table, scattering the documents there. Charles winces at the rough treatment, and adjusts atop the desk. He spreads his legs slightly as he watches Erik, and waits.

Erik is throbbing with need, he’s unbelievably hard at the sight of Charles; disheveled and trembling in anticipation in front of him like this. He steps forward, closing the distance between them again, bodies slotting, crotches rubbing against each other. His cock throbs at the contact and Charles practically whines as Erik thrusts lightly. He places his hands on the desk on each side of Charles as he rolls his hips again.    

Charles gasps softly, hands reaching around Erik’s neck, drawing him in even closer. Head tucked in the crook of Charles' neck, Erik grinds his hips again as he breathes onto heated skin. Charles whimpers into his hair, hands trembling across his nape.

“Erik.” Charles pleads into his hair, grasping and pulling lightly. Erik snaps his hips forward harsher, letting his tongue swipe across Charles' neck before settling on a patch of skin and sucking brutally. He sucks and bites; finally, finally, marking the man, all the while grinding Charles into the desk.

Drawing back, he shoves the baker flat, looming above him domineeringly. The button and zipper are taken care of quickly and Erik shoves the slacks down and out, throwing them somewhere behind him. The shoes and socks are disposed of next. He has no patience for the column of buttons on Charles shirt so he rips it open instead. He traces his hands roughly across lithe legs to equally delicate looking hips, pressing down and rubbing on the supple skin- digging his hands greedily into the downy flesh. Erik runs his palms down the soft skin, past the trembling thighs to the nest of hair where Charles' cock waits, hard and leaking precum.

He lets his fingers ghost over the cock, watching Charles intently, devouring the reactions he’s getting for his touches. He teases the man, letting his thumb rub the head of the cock gently, reveling in the way Charles tosses his head back, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips- eyelids fluttering as his eyes roll in ecstasy. He changes his grip, wrapping his spit-slicked hand around the cock, and begins to pump. Charles whimpers, spreading his legs wider, begging without words for Erik to go faster. He drags his thumb over the tip of Charles' cock, brushing over the slit, teasing it. Charles' hips jerks into Erik’s hand, fucking the fist wrapped around his cock wildly.

“Patience,” Erik growls, letting his head drop to the heaving chest in front of him. He focuses his attention on a dusky nipple, perked from the pleasure Charles is feeling. He sucks the bud harshly, laving at it with his tongue, causing Charles to arch into him, pushing his chest into Erik’s mouth. The baker whines at his ministrations. Only when Charles was keening breathlessly did he pull away from the bruised nipple. He flicks his thumb over the hard nub, making the man’s mouth drop open.

He brings his hand back up to Charles' lips, sliding them over his swollen lips and inside the sinful mouth.

“Suck,” he orders hoarsely, rubbing the pads of his fingers onto Charles' tongue. Charles, seeming to understand that this was the only lube that he was going to get, laved his tongue over the intruding fingers, coating them liberally in his saliva. He gently sucked Erik’s fingers deeper into his mouth, letting his tongue roam over the rough skin.

Erik groans at the feel of the slick tongue sweeping and sucking between his fingers. He pumps his hips faster, grinding into Charles, breathing heavily.

Charles keens, and Erik refocuses on the man. Their eyes meet as Charles swallows around Erik’s fingers, the tips feeling the contraction of the man’s throat. Erik moans, thrusting his fingers inside; caressing the hot cavern of Charles' mouth, which was opened and lax for him. When he feels that it’s slick enough, he draws back from Charles. Using his knees, he spreads Charles' legs further apart, and lets his finger rest on the pucker of Charles' ass, gently pushing in, letting the ring of muscles draw it in slowly. Picking up a comfortable rhythm, he begins thrusting, pushing it in further every time. Charles' thighs tremble, toes curling, as Erik picks up the pace, now driving it in harshly. Slowly, he slides in another in alongside the first.

Charles arches his back slightly, lifting his hips to accommodate the intruder, “Erik, plea-,” the man pleads, undulating his hips with Erik’s motions. Erik scissors his fingers, feeling the muscles tighten around his fingers as he preps the tight hole, now slick and open for his cock. Erik’s cock is leaking, throbbing from the feel of Charles' hole around his fingers. He drives his fingers apart and caresses the heated inside of Charles' ass, making sure it was open enough before drawing his fingers out, grunting as his cock jumped at the obscene ‘schnhk’ sound. Charles whimpers and thrusts his hips up, following Erik’s withdrawing fingers. Erik growls, and holds back the straying hips.

Spitting on his hand, coating his cock liberally, he pumps it as he eyes Charles splayed out in front of him- needy, flushed and _open_. His breath hitches as Charles pleads again with hips, lifting them up imploringly, slick hole shining. He grasps Charles' thighs, pulling them closer; their bodies flush. He guides his cock to Charles' entrance, rubbing on it, reveling in Charles' silent pleas before gently pushing in.

“Fuck, Charles.” Erik bites out gutturally. This is too much for him; he wants to let go and slam in right up to his balls; make Charles scream him name in pleasure. He’s doing his best to go slow so that he doesn’t hurt Charles, but he doesn’t think he can hold back for much longer.

Charles bucks again, pushing back against Erik’s rigid cock.

“Erik, please.” he says throatily, frantically bucking, cock bobbing between them.

He groans as Charles grinds into his cock; slowly taking him in. He pushes his cock in deeper, lowering himself onto Charles, arms bracketed around the smaller man. He thrusts once, languidly, moving both their bodies in a smooth motion. Charles pushes his hands up into Erik’s hair, bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. Erik pulls back, the ache inside him unbearable. With one harsh thrust, he slams his cock deep into Charles, exulting in the drawn out cry he receives. His sack brushes against Charles' ass as they both adjust to the rough rhythm of Erik’s thrusts.

“Erik,” Charles whimpers, hands tugging his hair harshly. “Harder, _please_.”

Fuck. Erik can't help but think that he likes this side of Charles the best- begging for him shamelessly.  Covering Charles' body with his own, he snaps his hips ferociously, not holding back any longer. His thrusts are near savage, rocking them both and the desk. Charles is incoherent; only making little piteous sounds as he sways with the force of Erik’s assault. When he hits Charles' prostrate, the baker keens loudly, grasping blindly at Erik to try and ground himself from the profuse arousal that rushes through him, leaving him putty in Erik’s hold.

His head is thrown back, mouth wide open and hips pitching forward and backward as Erik plows in, staking his claim. Erik uses one hand to grasp Charles' chin, bringing the head back down to face him, and feels a sharp spike in his arousal at the sight of Charles' dazed face. Holding Charles' face in place, he slips his head down for a kiss, devouring the slack mouth- taking pleasure in the Charles' debauched state.

“Erik,” Charles calls his name out breathily, bucking up against him wildly as he speeds up the pace, both of them rocking in unison. “Erik. Erik. Er-“

The chant is music to his ears. Wanting only to drive his cock deep into Charles, his thrusts grow frantic and sloppy. Charles bounces on his cock, placing kisses wherever he can on Erik’s face, drawn down towards him with the hands entwined in his hair. He’s mewling against Erik’s skin, mouth open and hot, and saying Erik’s name over and over again with every punishing push of Erik’s hips. Erik drives his cock in deep with a particularly rough thrust when Charles drags his slick tongue over the top of his ear, resting his open mouth near it so Erik can hear his soft cries clearly.

Grabbing Charles' thighs, he pulls the man in, and fucks him harder, faster, giving it all he’s got.

“Close.” Charles gasps out into his hear, pulling at his hair. “Erik, Erik, I'm close.”

Erik grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t relent, driving his hard cock deeper into the trembling man.

“ _Erik!_ ” Charles cries out, body arching and going taut as his orgasm hits him, streams of cum splattering onto both their chests. Erik cums almost immediately afterwards, Charles' own orgasm doing him in. He pushes his cock in as deep as he can get into the baker before tensing up himself, spilling his hot seed inside Charles.

He drops his head on Charles' trembling chest, both tired but sated. Charles' hand brushes his hair gently, soothing him. The air reeks of sex, both of them covered in sweat- completely worn out in Charles' case. Erik presses feather light kisses all over the exhausted body in his arms.

“Home, Erik,” Charles murmurs. “Take me home, love.”

\---


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update, but my grandfather passed away. Now that things have sort of settled down, and my CIA3 is ending next week Saturday, I'll be updating weekly again!!! Can't wait!! 
> 
> This is just a quick chap to get the story moving and as you can see, action scenes are not my thing lol.

Charles is still sleeping when the sun starts to filter through the blinds of Erik’s penthouse. Erik stretches as best as he can while wrapped around the baker. Last night had been a release of the tension and frustration he had been feeling in regards to the impending attack. He hadn’t intended to have their first time how it happened last night, but what’s done is done and Charles hadn’t seemed to mind all that much. Then again, Erik is sure his frustration and agitation had been quite visible. He groans at the thought and buries his face in Charles' soft curls, breathing in the heady scent reminiscent there.

He rose from the bed, struggling to disentangle himself from the embrace both of them had fallen into in the middle of the night, a mass of interlocked limbs. Glancing back, Erik thinks Charles looks like a naïve little lamb, curled into the sheets. The thought of Shaw destroying their little paradise creates a pain within his chest and Erik hurries into the bathroom, trying to shake off the sense of impending conflict.

The cold water wakes him up efficiently and drags away the idealistic thinking with it as it runs down his body and into the drain. He still has to hash out the rest of the details for the preparation for the attack today. Hopefully, by now, the Professor’s side of the Cabinet has managed to contact the man and acquire his aid. Erik is hanging onto the fact that the man has something in mind for dealing with whatever Shaw has planned. Having seen the Professor’s capabilities already, and having encountered the man and his change in thinking, Erik knew it was prudent that he have the man on his side in the upcoming fight.

By the time he exits the shower, he’s freshened enough and ready to face the day. As he moves to wake Charles, intending to have a last breakfast with the man before he had the baker stored away somewhere for safety, Emma’s voice breaks through in his mind painfully.

_Erik._

He freezes from the intensity of the voice, echoing from within the recesses of his mind, sharp and cutting.

“Erik?” Charles asks, having woken from the sudden brush of Erik’s hand.

 _What is it,_ Erik asks Emma within his mind. His gut coils and tenses, nausea bubbling within him as some part of him guesses what has occurred.

_Shaw’s here, and asking for you._

_How?_

Charles looks worried and slowly straightens himself from the sheets, hand rising to lie on Erik’s arms to steady the man. The soft skin of the baker’s thumb drawing circles on his arm calms him somewhat, but he needs to be elsewhere at the moment. No one, presumably even the Professor; had not counted on the man attacking much, much earlier than the postulated date.

“Charles,” he says quietly. “I need you to stay here. This is probably the safest place in the entire building. I'll come and get you after everything’s over.”

Erik doesn’t want to go into detail of the horror that awaits him on the office floors with Emma. It was better to keep Charles away and safe, lest the baker do something stupid and get himself killed. There was no telling what he’d do if Charles was harmed during this, especially is it was by Shaw.

“Erik, what are you going to do?” the baker asks him, wide eyed, and Erik is far too agitated to notice that Charles knows something.

Erik swallows the anxiety and steels himself for the impending confrontation. At least there’s the advantage of handling Shaw on a more familiar turf. The capitol building is a mass of metal so Erik has that to help him here. He couldn’t do anything disastrous, however, since he was sure everyone else including Charles and the other office workers would still be present here. He’d sent Azazel away for the defense work earlier in the week so teleporting out was out of the question.

“Don't follow me,” he orders Charles, who is still staring at him in concern. “It’s far too dangerous. I need you to stay here.”

Charles' eyes widen and the baker’s mouth falls open slightly.

“I need you to stay safe Charles.” Erik reiterates.

“What are you going to do?” Charles asks again, and there’s a slight tremor in his voice.

Erik turns his head away, trying to locate Shaw in the office floor below. The anger from his childhood, left to simmer in the deep well of his mind, was slowly rising to the surface, thrashing against the walls as it fought for release.

“Erik?” Charles asks. Erik can tell the man wants to remain calm, but there’s a hint of worry in Charles's inquiry and he can feel the hand on his stiffen and tighten slightly. “What are you going to do, Erik?”

“There’s something I need to finish.” Erik says, not wanting to regale Charles with stories of his less than stellar childhood and the multitude of issues he has because of it. His mind flickers to the death of his mother and a vivid picture of a coin he wears on a chain.

Charles withdraws his hand from Erik’s hand, and Erik startles.

“Charles,” he pleads with the baker. “I need you to stay safe. I’ll come and find you after everything’s over. If anything goes wrong, go down the shaft to the bunker alright?”

He receives a terse nod in return. Erik doesn’t know what has changed in their relationship at this point, but he wants to believe that everything will be okay. Most of all, he wants to believe that no harm will come to Charles. He lets his fingers caress the hand on his lightly, drowning in the memories he has with the man before willing himself to draw away.

There’s something more pressing waiting for him.

He rises from the bed and makes his way out of the bedroom, but pauses at the doorway and looks back at Charles.

The baker is watching him, face contorted into a blank expression. Erik doesn’t want to know what has changed, but he hopes the man still feels the same as he did before. He lets his gaze linger on Charles before heading out of the room.

\---

He reaches the offices quicker than he ever has. Erik senses the presence of Shaw much before he enters the room, by a small pin on Shaw’s jacket. The tension has still not left him and the tide of fierce misery at his mother’s death works only to feed the hungry rage boiling within him.

There’s a coin burning on a chain, scarring his chest.

Using his powers, Erik wrenches the doors to the cabinet meeting room open and the harsh light of day floods into the dimly lit corridor.

“Ah Erik, nice of you to join us.”

Erik feels a cold chill travel down his spine at the spirited, casual tone of the voice. Shaw had always been a man who had been uncommonly fascinated at the despair of others and Erik clearly remembers the man’s features contorted into delight during Erik’s manifestation in light of his mother’s murder.

The doctor had an eerie way of pressing all of Erik’s buttons, intentionally or not. He couldn’t let it happen to him this time, not if he wanted to end this.

As Erik heads inside the floor, he notices the presence of Emma and Jean. Shit fuck, he’d wanted Jean to remain hidden. It doesn’t matter, Erik tells himself, he’s won with less before and he could do it again.

“You must be utterly confused,” Shaw drawls, leaning on a desk and eyeing Erik. “You must be wondering why I’ve come for you.”

Erik remains tensed and rigid while waiting for Shaw to continue. He has a feeling that something is off and has no idea what, so until then he knows he has to keep Shaw talking. As the man continues his tirade, Erik lets his senses spread across the building and then moves onto the rest of Genosha, reaching as far as he can.

“You see, Erik, you and your merry band of peace loving, doormat mutants have been showing the humans that we play by their rules.”

Shaw’s voice hardens.

“I’ve tried to show you. The humans have no place in the future,” Shaw leers at Erik. “You seem intent on having them there with us, even after seeing the way they are.”

“What does that have to do with attacking Genosha?” Erik asks, even as he scans the outskirts of the city for a plane, a sub, anything.

“Why Erik, I’d thought you’d have figured it out by now.” Shaw sighs in mock disappointment, but Erik knows the man is taunting him. Years of standing in front of a polished wooden desk and

“He wants to show the humans how destructive mutants can really be.” Emma explains from behind him. “He’s going to turn us against the humans because he thinks we’ll come out on top.”

“A war to cleanse the world.” A twisted smile spreads across Shaw’s face. “It was once upon a time, your idea Erik.”

_He wants to destroy everything we’ve worked for._

Erik’s blood boils at Emma’s revelation, and he struggles to maintain his calm.

“Things have changed,” he says, and raises his arms, sending a barrage of sharpened metal toward the man. Hinges of metal creaks and splits apart from walls with sharp, resounding cracks. From everywhere, shards and large pieces of distorted metal flew toward the man with a calculated precision.

“Kill me, and you kill everyone here.”

With a flick of his hands, Erik stills his choice of weapon. Every piece, every speck of metal debris stops and freezes. They hover in the air like a horde of bees, enveloping Shaw.

“He’s absorbed enough energy to wipe out half the city.” Emma cries out.

Erik moved the metal to surround Shaw, to allow no way of escape. They have to think of something, he can't let Shaw destroy Genosha, not when it had so many people he’d become too familiar with.

“Can you stop him?” he asks Emma.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Shaw chuckles, and the sound carries in the walls of metal surrounding him. “We can't have that.”

The moment Shaw finished his sentence there were two consecutive flashes of blue in the room. Each burst of light deposited two mutants. Erik could recognize Angel and Kurt. When the two had been set down, the blue blur slowed and gave way to reveal the mutant as the teleporter the Professor had warned him about, Kurt.

 _Incapacitate them,_ Erik sent Emma’s way.

_I can’t latch onto the teleporter boy’s mind but Angel I can take care of._

Still holding Shaw in a metal prison, Erik stretched his abilities to mold the metal chairs into rods and sent them Kurt’s way.

_Let Jean deal with Warren, but make it seem as if it’s your work._

_What are you planning?_ Just take care of them first. I’ll deal with the teleporter boy.

The teleporter simply vanished his way out of the path of the rods. Erik drew them back and sent them hurtling to the other end of the office, where the kid had reappeared. Kurt simply slipped away and slid into being behind Shaw. Erik immediately tightened the sphere of metal around Shaw, but then noticed the metal melting around the corner.

“Is this all, Erik?” Shaw taunted him.

He gritted his teeth and focused once again on the teleporter as he slammed in a piece to replace the section Shaw had melted.

Suddenly, Kurt froze. Erik tensed and looked back at Emma, who stood, breathing heavily. Warren lay crumpled on the ground some few feet away from her. Angel stood frozen on the other side of the room as well.

 _Jean,_ he called out to her, not knowing who was available to him.

_Kill him, Erik._

Emma’s voice.

 _Not here,_ Erik argued, _it’ll kill us all._

_Erik, now, or I make you._

Erik knew how difficult Emma’s life had been under Shaw’s control, but he this was something he had not expected. Emma had always been calm and pragmatic about Shaw and ending their hunt, but this irrationality was not something he had been able to foresee. He needed to get her to realize that destroying the entire island along with Shaw would give the man what he had come looking for here; for the humans to see just how fatal mutants could be and thus create an irreparable rift between humans and mutants in the outside world.

_Listen to me-_

Jean let out a scream of pain that startled both Erik and Emma. Spinning around in shock, Erik noticed Kurt behind her, a small dagger protruding through her stomach, the seepage of blood from her wound staining her white shirt. In their bickering, they hadn’t noticed Kurt escape the confines of Emma’s powers. The telekinetic collapsed to the floor, clutching at her injury as Kurt teleported away to Warren’s side, shaking the boy and reviving him.

“Erik!” Emma snarled and raised her hand.

Behind him, Erik heard someone colliding with the table. Emma had purposefully sent Angel into the path of the table. Erik watched as the girl’s wings tore, the various items on the table tearing through the delicate wings and rendering them useless. Angel cried out in pain as the wings split with a soft sound that reminded Erik of the tearing of cloth.

Kurt and Warren stood once again.

“Is this all Erik?” Shaw asked him from within the confines of his barred prison of metal rods. “This is the great Magneto? This is the same child who I once saw as capable of tearing down countries?”

With a quick burst of energy, Shaw destroyed Erik’s bars and calmly walked out. Kurt released Warren and popped out of sight, only to deposit an unknown mutant beside Shaw. With a wave of his hands, the new mutant sent a rapid moving wave of water Emma’s way. Erik pulled in a few metal desks to create a shield for himself, but noticed the wave slamming both Emma and Jean against the wall.

“Who else can I kill to draw out that anger of yours?” Shaw asked him disapprovingly.

Erik thought of Charles and felt desperation rise within him.

The metal in the building began to shake.

“There it is!” Shaw smirked. “I wonder who it is.”

The walls creaked and groaned under the strain of his emotions even as Erik drew whatever he could without bringing the structure down on them all.

 _Control his mind,_ Erik sent to Emma, _Get him out of here._

 _I can't,_ Emma’s voice sounded strained. Holding both the kid’s minds was difficult enough when they’ve been trained by Shaw to throw me out, and Jean is in no condition to retaliate. Kill him Erik, or I'll kill you. You can’t let him leave.

Erik grit his teeth at her stubbornness.

_Not here._

_I can make you._

_Give me time._ he told Emma and refocused on Shaw’s bored visage.

“What is it?” Shaw was watching them with boredom on his face. “Can't think of what to do? I did come prepared, hoping you’d match up at least. Telepathy has its weaknesses.”

_Jean?_

Erik needed something to incapacitate Shaw without the man setting off anything.

 _I'm sorry,_ came the weak reply.

“Do you know why don't want you to join me?” Shaw asked, watching Erik intently. Kurt was teleporting everyone out, Warren first and then Angel.

“You were my best creation,” Shaw reminisced, sighing. “But you’re a failed experiment now, and I have better ones, following me. You’re useless, Erik.”

Shaw frowned.

“I can't have you standing in my way, despite the fact that you are in, indeed my favorite creation.”

Erik watched the man regard him in distaste and realized that everything was going to end. Kurt was here, right next to Shaw, ready to get them at the right moment while he and the others would be destroyed along with building. He thought of Charles, who was probably waiting for him and began to fortify the office level of the capitol building to reduce the effect of Shaw’s energy blast.

“It was nice to see you grow Erik,” in the middle of Shaw’s chest, a light began to grow, flickering brighter as the man spoke. “But I'm afraid; this is the end for you. If only you’d joined me.”

The light grew, sprawling and engulfing Shaw’s chest. Erik could only watch as Shaw began to build enough energy to wipe out the building and then subsequently the rest of the small mutant country.

Erik closed his eyes and extended his powers in an attempt to find Charles. He wandered up to the penthouse and sighed when he couldn’t find anyone inside. Maybe Charles had headed down to the bunker.

He then let his senses drift down to the office floor and immediately stiffened, eyes shooting open when he noticed someone outside in the corridor of the meeting hall, poised to enter the room.

Erik watched in shock, Shaw’s face grew angry, brows furrowed and the man stood straighter still. He turned slightly to catch sight of the man entering them room, despite already having a gut feeling as to whom it could be.

“Hello Sebastian.” Charles greeted calmly.

There’s a flittering sense of panic for a few seconds as Erik watches both men.

“Professor.” Shaw grit out in the form of a greeting, and moves closer to Kurt.

\---


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I suck at action scenes LOL PRETTY OBVIOUS :) only two more chapters left guys! I'm thinking of doing a merman Charles AU w mutant powers??? And a Superbat thing so lmao, but first! Going to improve my writing skills A LOTTTTTT

Erik stands frozen as his mind begins to scramble through various memories of himself with Charles. How had he not seen this coming? Even Emma had written off the baker as a lower level projector, and to have fooled her, Charles must have more capabilities than they had ever postulated. Erik’s blood thunders in his ears, filling them with a soft ringing tone as he fails to grasp the situation in front of him. It couldn’t be possible, because then it would mean that there could very well be ulterior motives to them running into each other.

“It was remiss of me to think you would let the great Magneto contain this situation alone.” Shaw’s voice breaks through his thoughts. Erik watches them, unable to move from his position, held in place by the revelation.

“You came prepared, as did I.” Charles says calmly, moving forward further into the room.

Shaw eyed both of his adversaries warily. He motions for Kurt and the blue teleporter vanishes from sight. Erik tenses in anticipation of Shaw’s next move, since apparently the man considered Charles to be a more daunting adversary than Erik.

“You two are an unusual pair.” Shaw remarks, fingertips glowing bright.

Charles remains still despite the threat.

“You make quite a picture yourself,” Charles replies. “Children are very susceptible to carefully chosen words, I think you have found.”

Erik can only think of the time when the ‘Professor’ had gone through his head and had seen everything from his childhood to his mother’s death and to his antics from his early adult age to Genosha and then to his feelings for Charles.  His stomach drops with the weight of betrayal. Charles could have been playing him from the start, to foster a change in his perspective about the humans, without any direct confrontation. To his chagrin, Erik realizes that it has worked out very well, if that indeed was what Charles had been aiming for.

“I have effective ways,” Shaw’s cryptic answer makes Erik want to tear down the man the exact way he tore down buildings; harshly, tearing giant chunks away with raw, brutal force. He knew exactly what Shaw’s effective ways were. “I don't see anyone of yours.” He gestures next to Charles.

“I think Erik is more than enough.”

“And I think you’ll find that he’s not. You can’t even control him, might I add.”

Kurt reappears beside Shaw, holding onto a small bag. Something metal resonates inside, a unique metal the likes of which Erik has never felt before. Strange and unique, it calls to him, causing his powers to stretch across to the bag. He lets the tendrils caress over the rough surface of it before slipping through to the inside.

A helmet.

Erik thinks he knows what for when he sees Kurt freeze, but it’s far too late, the helmet is on Shaw’s head. Charles' has two fingers placed on his temple, and a terse look on his face.

“You’ve been researching.” Charles remarks, hand staying in place.

“Organic metal,” Shaw turns to Erik. “ _Effectively_ keeps away the telepaths. I think you agree with me on this one. Your approach to the Professor in the initial stages of your campaign is the reason why I had it developed. You had some good points.”

The tightening in his stomach only increases and Erik can feel nausea building up within him, but doesn’t let it show. That particular word used in this context again can only mean that the helmet was meant to hurt Charles somehow. He can't let either of them know how he feels, not even Charles, whom he’s not so pleased with at the moment.

Charles' eyes narrow and his stance subtly becomes more defensive.

The fact that he had been planning to incapacitate the Professor and by extension, harming Charles, somehow doesn’t sit well with Erik now, knowing who the man really is. However, the feelings of betrayal clamor within him, pounding on his ribcage, screeching to be let out and expressed.

Charles' gaze flickers to him and Erik cringes. Telepathy, right.

_Erik._

The metal in the room creaks and twists grotesquely.  Erik can sense the guilt in the man’s presence in his mind, and feels the same himself.

_Erik, please, I need you._

Erik steels his mind; he can't afford to mix his emotions in this confrontation. Anything Erik that would give Shaw, the man could twist and use to his advantage. This, Shaw would have a field day with. Erik knows that he needs to work in tandem with Charles in order to get rid of Shaw. Whatever matters they had to discuss, they could do it later, when everything had settled down.

 _Genosha?_ Erik asks within the safety of his mind.

 _Minor patches of fighting,_ Charles replies, and Erik’s mind instantly focuses on the similar speech patterns of Charles and his persona of the Professor, though the tones are very different. _The others are handling it well._

_Erik, can you deal with Shaw?_

Perhaps Charles meant the helmet. Who knew what kind of effects it had on Charles.

_I can take care of the helmet, but I can't control what he does with the energy._

“What do you think having a telepath will bring you?” Shaw taps the helmet resting snugly on his head, protecting him from Charles' omniscient gaze. “A bit useless now, isn’t it?”

_Take off the helmet Erik, and I can take care of the rest._

Erik eyes the offending contraption. There were a plethora of thoughts crossing his mind, most of them telling him to take the helmet for himself, at least until he talked to Charles and figured out exactly what had been going on in the man’s mind the entire time they had been together.

_Alright. Give me time._

He can feel Charles' presence retreat to the back of mind and simmer there, waiting anxiously for any sort of signal Erik would give it. He then focuses on Shaw, letting the thrum of the organic metal draw him.

If he drew the helmet out too quickly, he could risk alerting Shaw, then the man could Kurt to get him out or use Kurt in any other manner which would leave both Charles and Erik incapable of dealing out any sort of solution or holding him in the building. If he didn’t time it right, Shaw would probably blast them all without regards to whoever made it out alive except him. Erik is sure that Shaw doesn’t care whether he or the Professor live at all.

_He loses focus when he calls for the teleporter child._

The tip is sound. He has to somehow make Shaw call for Kurt, make Kurt the only way that he can leave or escape. Either it’s the end game or Erik has to create a situation similar to it. Erik’s mind starts to formulate the plan even as he draws on the metal from all the available material in the office.

He’s going to create a distraction.

_Charles, pay attention._

The presence in the back of his mind brightens and surges forth, engulfing him in a comforting warming blanket of confidence. It delves deeper, reaching and drawing out old, barely remembered memories. Erik feels the warmth swarming him become soothing as he watches the forgotten pieces of his life flash before his eyes. The tension he has with Charles bleeds into the background of these memories.

_It’s not always anger, Erik. There’s a place between all this rage, and a sort of serenity._

The sensation washes over him like water, bringing a freshness to him, crisping his actions. When Erik wrenches the metal out in precise, fatal pieces from the desks and walls, they come out more redefined than they ever have and barrel towards Shaw in a calculated, controlled manner.

“Kurt!” Shaw barks out, seeing the attack exactly the way Erik wants him to see it- as a last resort, nearly everything Erik could scrape together heading for him to try and incapacitate him.

Kurt reappears beside Shaw only to freeze. Erik risks a glance behind him and sees Charles simply standing there, two fingers resting against his temple. It’s astounding how much control the man has over his powers, and for Erik, it’s difficult to associate the Charles he has known, to the straight edged personality of the Professor he has briefly felt within his mind on rare occasions.

Charles doesn’t seem to strain himself to hold the teleporter in place, despite Emma having issues even locating it. The telepath seems to know where the kid would reappear and had the additional advantage of a wider range. Erik had been in awe of this ability before and even now remains wary, regardless of the fact that it is Charles.

_Helmet, Erik, please!_

The thoughts running through his head swivel away from the presence of Charles in his mind. The helmet slides off Shaw’s head smoothly, rising through into the air, floating over the man’s head for a second as Erik admires its design before bringing it to himself.

_I’ve got Shaw, Erik, it’s over._

He pays no attention to the voice attempting to comfort him and instead feels the soft, vibrating metal settle in his open hands and tingle his skin. Erik knows only that he doesn’t want Charles to try to talk to him now. He still has the task of dealing with Shaw, and he can’t risk Charles manipulating him. It doesn’t matter to Erik, in this moment, that Charles could possibly feel the same way.

Erik’s hands are steady as they rise with the helmet tightly grasped. The cool hard feel of the helmet around his head bothers him for a mere moment, but his convictions rise above it as a bird does over a tide. He needs to be in complete control for this.

“Erik!”

The distress in the call is evident, but Erik pays no heed. He misses the tightening of Charles' features. The flash of guilt over the man’s face, the subtle widening of Charles' eyes as he the man is able to piece together what Erik is going to do.

“Erik, don't!”

The pale fingers press harder onto the temple, Charles' face contorted into one of pain as he struggles to hold down Shaw. Erik glances away, letting his thoughts of the man drift to the bottom of his mind like dirt in a pond. It would rise again later, in a fierce, encompassing cloud, but not now.

The coin pressed against his chest by the thin layer of cloth slips out, hovering in the air before them. Shaw’s eyes dart around as Charles' voice calls from behind him. The metal surrounding them groans, but Erik drives the coin forward relentlessly, walking over to where Shaw stood, motionless and vulnerable. He was going to end this, no matter what it took.

The screams of his mother echoes in his mind, cries of varying degrees of agony pelting him, propelling him forward in his actions. The coin slowly rises to stand before Shaw’s forehead. To the man holding Shaw in place, it all resembles the moment before the hammer struck the anvil.

“Erik, please!”

“You,” Erik says slowly. “You should have never come for me. You should have never come for my mother.”

Erik knew that Shaw has recognized the coin when the man’s eyes widens, darting back and forth, seemingly beseeching Erik to end this. Erik held fast. This man had shown him what it was to have no mercy and that was exactly what he was going to get in return.

The coin broke skin the way a knife slid into a bombe, sending a slow rivulet of blood down Shaw’s temple. Erik tuned everything out as he pushed the piece of metal through Shaw’s skull. He heard and saw nothing, only felt the coin travel through to other side, breaking bone in small, cracks that resounded clearly within the focused quiet of his mind, as it emerged, bloody, from the other side.

The sight of the grotesquely disfigured coin jolts him, bringing him back to reality, even as Shaw crumples onto the floor with a sickening sound. The helmet feels odd and new, brushing against the hairs at his nape, but it feels somewhat natural.

Unlike the unearthly screams that quickly fill his ears.

The sound rushes in, sounding disfigured due to the helmet, but it was clear who it was coming from. Charles. Erik’s whole body freezes as the screams grow harsher in his ears as he readjusts to reality. As he draws his focus away from Shaw’s body and the bloody coin, he begins to realize the extent of what he has done.

Charles' screams are sporadic and raw, the rough tone of it makes Erik cringe in fear of his own vocal cords. It’s pain and something else Erik can’t quite pinpoint. Charles lies on the ground, fingers digging into his scalp, tearing at his hair as the rest of his body convulses and arches before slamming down on the cold, wet floor of the office.

Erik feels eerily disembodied in the moment.

\---

It means nothing to anyone that Erik had finished off Shaw, with the exception of Emma, who nods tersely before slipping away. The others went out to deal with the destruction of the island, to supply aid in areas of relief and restoration. Erik attempts to stay behind in the building and wait for news about Charles, but eventually has to leave.

Charles has been taken somewhere else to recuperate, and Erik has been clearly told that this was perhaps, the last time he would see the man. It is Hank who regales him of the consequences of his actions and Erik listens with half an ear dedicated as the rest of his mind ponders on Charles' actions. It all blurs from there, the rest of his day is a sludge of activities in aiding the recovery of the island.

He goes out with Logan, Azazel, and Mystique to help the rest of the mutant inhabitants in recovering whatever was lost in the small patches of skirmishes that the others had maintained. He hasn’t heard a word from Mystique and the others at all, and many of the café members, when he goes there to refit the entrance, none of them speak to him, much less look at his face.

Erik looks around for Alex, hoping to at least catch Charles' ward and have a word with him regarding the identity of the Professor, but finds that no immediate family or friend is present. He resigns himself to waiting for other members to speak to him, but it’s futile.

No one speaks to him about Charles.

In fact, they all skirt around him.

This irks him, but he knows that his actions haven’t been all that friendly to the Professor’s side. Despite it being Charles, Erik had still gone through with a possibly fatal plan, harming Charles in the process. This was not how he had imagined them ending, not that he had been willing to imagine them end at all.

Erik half marches back to the Capitol, where the rest of the cabinet members are waiting for him. He hasn’t paid attention to anything anybody has tried to tell him during the day regarding any Cabinet work. Shaw was dead, but Charles lay somewhere, in a horrifying condition, courtesy of Erik.

He doesn’t want to think of what Charles is going through. Erik reminisces of the incident Charles had a while ago, the man had been nearly catatonic from feeling the death of one officer at such a large distance. If something  so trivial and from such a large distance had affected Charles, Erik hates to think how Charles must be feeling at the moment. He’s literally driven a coin through Charles' head, via Shaw. Erik pushes the thought away. He isn’t ready to face his actions. He just wants to know how Charles is.

The conference room remains largely untouched by the battle with Shaw, with only a few adjacent walls split open wide from the pull of Erik’s powers. The entire cabinet is waiting for him, chatting morosely at the remains of the large wooden table. He receives pointed stares from quite a few of them as he approaches.

Mystique fixes him with a cold, unforgiving glare as soon as he approaches the table, Scott Summers restraining her with a hand on her shoulder. Erik doesn’t understand why she of all people is straining on him, but refuses to crumple under the force of her accusing gaze.

“Sit down, Erik,” Emma snaps, sensing his hesitance. “We need to deal with the humans fast, they’ve been making too many enquires. If this blows up, Shaw could very well have succeeded.”

Erik can see Summers bristle at her tone. He sits down beside Logan, the only one of them who has been cordial with him even after seeing what he has done to Charles. Scratch that, Logan had long since expressed his dislike for Erik. Raven continues to glares at him from across the tilted table.

“We need to hold a conference with the human countries as soon as possible.” Emma announces to the rest of them. “McCoy, when he returns, and I will take care of the representatives in a more open manner, seeing as we no longer have the access to the Professor’s help. Erik, you are going to be unavailable as you will be ‘recuperating.’”

The chair clatters on the floor, wheels bouncing off the carpeted floor of the conference room at the force used to push it back. Erik glances up at the disturbance.

Mystique stands, shoulders tense, eyeing him in distaste.

“Charles is my brother, Erik.” She hisses at him before limping out.

Oh. No wonder, she’d been off kilter since the moment he had become too involved with Charles and had always been wary of the developing friendship. There wasn’t anything to be done at the moment. Nothing he could say, as he always had done, not when he was the one who almost deliberately harmed Charles, would help her.

Logan seems to sense his uneasiness and motions for Emma to continue.

“You can talk to her later, tin can.”

Erik spends the entire meeting thinking of Charles and the consequences of both their actions. He can't help but feel that he’s created an irreparable rift between them, not only for Charles, but also for himself.

\---

As soon as the meeting ends, Erik, having already decided that he was going to go out to find Mystique and talk to her about Charles, rushes out of the conference room. Turns out he doesn’t have to go very far, since she is already waiting outside, disguised as a gorgeous blonde woman. He only raises his eyebrows at the flamboyant, almost childish disguise.

“This is Raven Xavier,” Mystique began, gesturing him to sit beside her. “Charles took me in, adopted me into the family later. He’s taken care of me ever since I was a child. His gift isn’t so accepted, and he prefers to hide, even among the mutants.”

There’s a pause in the narrative.

“I’ve kinda made it difficult for him. Telepathy isn’t like all mutations, Erik, and Charles is more powerful than Emma is. I’ve fueled his insecurities and sort of encouraged him to remain hidden because I could never accept his power. Mutant and proud doesn’t really apply to Charles, because he’s an outcast even around mutants. So you can't fault him for this, he was just trying to make things easier for me.”

Erik has is sure that no one has ever seen Mystique like this, as _Raven Xavier_. He hasn’t come across anything from her past attached to her and this was the first time he was even seeing this guise. Mystique had been his from the very beginning of his campaign, but it was daunting to know that Charles had worked with the very best even before him. The Professor, always a Good Samaritan.

“I know you’re wondering why, Erik,” Mystique, rather Raven, turns her head away. “And this is just part of what he is, what I think everybody made him be, me included.”

He really wants to snort at that. He wants nothing more than to pass this off as something trivial and resume their friendship, but he knows that what he has done to Charles is beyond what is acceptable as a reaction to the man’s deceit. Whether or not he wants to move on from this is secondary to Charles' response to Erik’s actions.

“You’re still looking at him as the Professor, Erik. But for you to do that to him again, when you know what he’s been through as Charles, as your dumb little baker, I don't think what you’ve done is okay, Erik. I don't think he’s okay with us anymore Erik.”

This catches his attention.

“Us?” he questions her.

“I walked away,” Here, she hesitates again before she continues, and Erik can tell this is something she hasn’t moved past, much like his ordeal with his mother. “He gave me a choice Erik, to do what I want and I chose to walk away. I just didn’t realize what he meant at that time. I guess I do now.”

“What did he mean?”

“Erik, the humans,” Raven eyes him warily. “They’re not all that bad. Charles said he was wrong to try to control me and saying that, he let me go. I’ve learned since then, Erik and you can't keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Erik snaps.

“Blaming the humans, Erik! Look at what you did to Charles! You’re nothing better if you attack them as a collective mass based on the reactions of a select group!”

“What I did to Charles was different!” he snarls. “Shaw was right there, right in front of me! I had an opportunity and I did not waste it! I would have done anything to end him! He would have never ceased following me and causing chaos if I had not!”

She shrinks from his outburst, withering into the seat.

“You would do that again?” She questions him somberly. “Say that to Charles.”

The temper slides out of Erik much like the way water slides out of a fallen glass, slowly, and leaving the container empty.

“You know I did not mean to harm him.” There was really no way to continue, no way to justify his actions. Charles had been begging him and he’d turned away from the man and killed Shaw, and by extension, Charles.

“Go talk to him.” She tells him.

“Why?” He asks her, guilt rearing its ugly, heavy claws and latching onto his soul as a hook latches onto a cloth and drags him down. “So I can see the extent of the damage I have done?”

Erik tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it coats his words in an oily, inescapable consistency.

“Talk it out,” Raven elaborates. “Both of you need to try and fix it.”

He turns his head away.

She pushes a piece of paper into his clasped hands before rising and joining someone else, Erik assuming it to be Scott, who supports her as they walk away, leaving him to ponder. The freshness of the sheet gives way to crinkles as he clenches down on it.

\---

Later in the day, Erik finds himself standing in front of a large house on the outskirts of Genosha, isolated, well away from any cluster of population. Azazel had dropped him off here, telling Erik that he would return later to pick him up in case things did not work out for the two leaders. Erik takes in the surroundings as he makes his way to the door, a oversized cottage surrounded by a metal fence, and a large garden, encompassed by fields of grapes and apples on either side. This was Charles' little escape and Raven’s home.

Climbing up the steps of the porch, Erik finds the house to be eerily quiet. Even as he stands in front of the black, ornate door, hand poised to knock, he isn’t sure if he wants to know what waits for him beyond the door. Isn't sure if they would be able to talk it out, would reconcile, would be friends again, or even more. Erik takes a deep breath and raps his knuckles against the polished wood of the door.

\---


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the last one guys!!! I'm really grateful for all the people who've stayed for the duration of this fic (a month extra bc of my long hiatus sry). My writing isn't that great tbh and I wasn't expecting such a good response, but you all surprised me by being extra lovely and sweet. ❤ one chap + epilogue left!!!! Sad this journey is over :((((

_Peach Frangipane Galette_

Erik’s desk is a mess. This is not one of his best days; papers and unfinished reports scattered everywhere. At this rate, Erik thinks, there’s no way he’s going to get his work done on time. Even Logan gets his paperwork done on time (only because he had Scott Summers helping him out), and Erik is really, really behind this time.

The cold seeping in through all the fortifications is not helping. The mere sight of snow freaks Erik out and he has the metal vibrating and creating heat everywhere he goes. Cold metal reminds him of Raven’s death glares. He huffs at the thought and moves his elbow up to rest on the table, effectively scattering more papers over the edge of the desk and onto the floor.

There’s no one other than him on this end of the floor now that he’s stepped down from the Presidential duties and left it to Raven, but there’s also the fact that he’s drowning in twice as much work thanks to the fact that she’s a slave driver. Erik hates the humans a lot more now that he isn’t lording over the Cabinet. The only thing that can appease him isn’t even here.

He resists pouting only for a few moments before giving in. Life isn’t fair at all. He’s stuck here with a stupid planner telling him he has to submit three reports today while everyone is out in the snow having fun. Erik lasts only about twelve seconds into this trail of thought before grabbing all the papers and shoving them in a drawer in the desk.

No way he’s going to sit here when he could be out there. With a conviction stronger than his powers, he strides out of his office, headed for the elevator.

“Oi! The fuck! Tin can! No!”

Erik speeds up. He’s not going to let Logan stop him, not today. Not when there’s work to be done. He uses his powers to pull up the elevator even before he reaches it.

“Fucking soda can! You can't leave! Fucking NO!”

He can feel Logan gaining on him. He gets in at exactly the right time when the doors ding open and slams them back together before said stalker can home in on him.

When the elevator reaches the ground floor, Erik presses each floor button fiercely with loathing. Grinning an all-out shark smile, he makes his way out of the building. There’s only one place he wants to go.

Westchester Café has grown exponentially since the whole thing with Shaw. Hank, having come out as one of the masterminds behind the Professor, has expanded the café on request. Not only the recommendations of the café members and regulars, but also based on the regular hounding by the other Cabinet members, sans Emma. There’s more sitting space and the counter has been extended luxuriously and most of all, Erik’s couch has been left untouched.

There was only one thing different. The baker behind the little miracles in the glass stands hasn’t come in for the last few weeks. Erik has been visiting nearly every day. He hasn’t seen Charles since the trip to the cottage early last month. He’s not sure what he’s going to say even if he sees the baker, but still desperately wants to see the man. It’s just unfair that Charles has to recuperate this long.

Well it’s your fault to start, Erik reminds himself and grits his teeth as he deliberately stomps through the crowded street crossing, pushing the snow away with the soles of his boots. At least the café members are on much better terms with him now. Even little demure Kitty scoffs at him. There’s only one bad thing with the expansion of the café; there are more squealing, twittering university students plastering themselves all over Erik’s favorite couch. Oh the horrors of free and fast wifi.

Erik thinks today will be like most of his other days at the café; boring monotonous watching of the door just in case Charles decides to waltz in. he sighs as he pushes past a group of girls mooning over whatever new creation is being displayed. Thankfully, one of usual six favorite places to sit is free. This lone chair sits facing away from the counter but gives him the perfect view of the door.

As he settles into the worn down couch, Erik thinks back on his visit to the cottage. He’d been made to wait for nearly an hour by Hank before he had been allowed to meet Charles, who had been confined to strict bed rest. The man had been barely coherent and had drifted off various times during their pathetic attempt at a conversation. They hadn’t talked much but both of them had made quite clear that at that point, it was unwise to attempt much of reconciliation, not when one of them was in serious condition due to the recklessness and inconsideration of the other.

Erik knew that he had done wrong by his actions, but it was reasonable to feel betrayed by Charles' deceit and lies. He had mentioned this to the baker. Charles' meek apology had been spotted with coughs and cringes. Seeing Charles so worn down had really hit him hard at that point and he’d shut up pretty quickly after that. They hadn’t spoken much really, in terms of why Erik had done what he did, or if Charles was okay with it. They hadn’t addressed the issue of Charles being the Professor either. It was just tea and snacks and helping Hank with Charles and then he’d been unceremoniously rushed out of the house.

Only as he’d left, Charles' voice had resonated within his mind. Charles only said that they could only try to build bridges over the great chasms the incident with Shaw had created between them. Erik had felt hope then, but he still wasn’t sure whose it was, his or Charles'.

From then until now, there’s been no contact between them at all. Erik’s thinking veers to a more despondent side. Charles clearly is an outcast in both society and he could clearly hide better in the human world. There is a hundred percent chance the telepath would elect to return to what Raven had described as a towering, elegant mansion and a trust fund that would make the Genoshan treasury pale in comparison.

“Back again? What makes you think he wants to see you first thing when he comes back?”

Erik frowns at the angry tone, but doesn’t respond. Alex has all rights to throw attitude his way.

The teen sighs, abandoning the tirade in favor of being indifferent.

“What do you want today then?”

“Saw something new when I came in,” Erik says, shifting in the chair to squint at the squabble of girls pressed against the display case. “I want a piece, and coffee.”

Alex snorts as he pens down the order and disappears. Erik doesn’t react. This sort of treatment is better than what he’d expected from Alex. When he’d first dropped in the café after its renovation, Alex had blasted him from the doorway and yelled for a good hour about Erik’s ‘piss poor’ attitude.

Erik still feels grateful that Alex had screamed at him. Some things had slipped past the teen and coupled with the talks he’s had with Hank and Raven over the last few weeks, he’s been able to understand Charles a bit better. He’s still restless over the fact that he and Charles still haven’t talked it all out.

“Really?”

Tearing his eyes away from the door and the street beyond it, Erik comes face to face with Logan as he turns his head around. Well great, the mutt’s followed him here. After delivering a deadly glare, Erik returns to his job, concentrating fiercely on the entrance.

“Go away.” He instructs the other man, hoping for some peace and quiet so he continue to mope about Charles' absence and ignore his hand in the man’s injuries.

“You want me to go away?” Logan taunts as he leans back and lights one of his cigars. Erik wishes they were metal so he can shove it into Logan’s mouth and choke the man with it. “Just like Charl-WHAT THE FUCK?”

Erik’s concentration doesn’t break even as Logan cradles his hands, rubbing them to try to alleviate the pain.

“Charles is healing.” Erik reminds the distressed hunk, who is now the center of attention. The number of people focused on Logan has now increased exponentially. Unfair really, how popular the man is when all he does is yell and jump and hit things. Erik snorts before resuming his all-important task.

“Listen tin can, you can sit here all day, every day, but do you know if he wants to see you or not?”

Erik is calm; the question doesn’t faze him at all. His heart is only running a marathon because he hasn’t exercised in a long, long, time, or socialized, or been genuinely happy or at peace, whatever.

“Chuck may come back and decide he’s not ready to face you yet. What’re you going to do then? You’re sitting here every day waiting for him to walk in through that door, but really Chuck’s got better places to be.”

Oh no, he’s not rising to the bait.

“He’s got places everywhere that he meets people in. You just look sad sitting here waiting on him.”

There’s a slow build of pounding in his mind. It’s growing slowly with every word coming out of Logan’s mouth.

“What if Chuck’s changed his mind? What if he’s decided that you aren’t worth it? After all, you did nearly kill him. I mean c’mon tin can, if somebody did that you, you’d kill him right away. Chuck actually helped you out even knowing what an asshole you are. But everybody’s got limits.”

Erik grits his teeth as Logan continues to blabber.

“Chuck is probably avoiding you. Everyone else here’s met him, except for you. It’s kinda sad.”

This catches his attention sufficiently. How on earth has everyone already met and spoken with Charles before him? Not that he doesn’t deserve this sort of treatment, but Erik thinks Charles should have at least contacted him. He turns back to Logan to clarify on the matter.

“What do you mean he’s avoiding me?” Erik asks impatiently.

Logan rolls his eyes.

“I thought it was obvious. I mean c’mon, Chuck came back and he still hasn’t spoken to you yet? You both were really buddy-buddy before the whole Shaw thing so you’d expect that he’d talk to you first.”

“I know he’s avoiding me,” Who hadn’t noticed would be more appropriate for this situation, Erik thinks. “But you seem to know why.”

“Hah, you think I'm going to spill?”

Thank heavens Logan can regenerate from just about anything, so no one could blame Erik if he did some serious damage. He just continues to glare at Logan until the man chuckles and leans forward.

“You know something? Both of you fucked up. But what you did isn’t so easy to understand. Like Chuck man, what he did, people get it. You nearly killing him? What the fuck were you thinking? What the _fuck_ are you thinking?”

Erik winces.

“I must admit I was not in a proper state of mind.”

Logan rolls his eyes again and shifts in the seat to be more comfortable.

“Still doesn’t excuse what you did bub,” Yes, yes. Erik’s heard this same line in about fifty different ways from various angry people. “I heard your talk with him didn’t go so well either.”

Erik stiffens up immediately and unfortunately, Logan takes notice of this and snorts loudly before simmering down into chortles. Erik’s shoulders tense as he pulls the adamantium in Logan’s body in warning.

“Hey, hey no need to be fucking sensitive.” The man tries to placate him. “Just saying is all.”

They sit in silence afterwards, Logan stuffing the day’s special of peach frangipane galette in his mouth and Erik with his eyes glued to the café’s doors. The new dish is Erik’s order but Alex had dumped it in front of Logan instead, deeming the other man a better recipient of the currently popular dish.

Erik hasn’t touched even one, hoping Charles would come through the door and describe the dish or how it was made or why, just like the old days.

His eyes flicker back to the half empty plate in front of Logan. The galette is half finished, but he can smell the aroma of the glistening glazed peach slices stuffed into cotton like warm bread. His mouth waters and Erik gulps down the need to pick up a piece. Not until Charles is back, he reminds himself and turns his gaze back to the glass doors.

From across the café, Alex snorts at Erik’s actions.

\---

“You don't like them?”

The British voice shocks Erik, who had been glaring at the group of suited men blocking the doors of the café. He’s frozen in his seat, the pounding of his heart keeping him from turning around to face the owner of the voice. He’s been waiting for weeks, uncomfortable with anticipation of this exact moment, but now that it’s come around, Erik is not quite sure he can go through with this.

He attempts to soothe his rapidly thundering heart as he hears Charles take a seat across him, settling down in the same seat Logan had been in a few minutes ago. Shit fuck, they must have all known Charles was going to do this today.

“Hello, Erik.”

Taking a deep breath, Erik turns to face the man.

Charles looks much better than before, when he’d seen the man in the cottage. Gone are the dark circles and the shaggy, unkempt hair. There’s that naïve, baby face staring right back at Erik, and it’s making sick to the stomach that he could’ve harmed this Charles. Erik struggles with the two contrasting ideas of the Professor and this Charles for a few seconds before looking away.

“You were quite fond of peaches before, shame that these aren’t to your liking.”

Erik sighs.

“I haven’t tried them yet.”

“Oh?”

Charles falters and the disappointment hangs in the air between them. Erik cringes at the atmosphere. Another mistake made that’s on him. How is he supposed to fix things between them if he can't even look Charles in the eye? His heart isn’t helping at all, pounding against his rib cage painfully.

“I was hoping you would come in and tell me about it,” Erik begins, gesturing to the plate, where one piece remains, but then falls silent. He has no idea what to say.

“I’ve heard.” Charles says quietly. “I'm truly sorry if Alex hasn’t been treating you well in my absence.”

“I deserve that,” Erik snaps at the man, raising his head in anger and immediately regrets it as he watches Charles shrink in frustration. “Charles, I-“

It seems he can't continue further than that. There’s nothing he can say, and the apology just won't come out.

“It’s alright Erik,” Charles says wearily. “We don't have to rush this talk. We can talk whenever you’re ready. But you need to know that while I did hide my alternate identity, everything else was the truth. There’s nothing else I’ve kept from you, Erik.”

“Nothing else?” Erik bites out bitterly. “Raven?”

“She specifically asked that I not associate myself with her,” Charles explains. “When she left, she wasn’t exactly pleased with me, Erik. She asked that I at least honor her last request.”

Erik grunts his acceptance. There’s not much left for them to discuss, except the proverbial elephant in the room; the incident at the Capitol. Erik already hates this encounter. The situation is already unbearably awkward and nothing like the romantic reunion Erik had kept in his mind.

“I promise you Erik, there was no other motive on my part.” Charles states with desperate conviction.

“What-”

“I know what you must think of my powers Erik, I can already guess.” Charles sighs. “I haven’t influenced you or your thinking of me Erik. I kept up my strongest shields around you.”

Erik doesn’t understand why Charles is saying all this. He doesn’t understand how this could possibly be relevant to the matter at hand, which is the deceit and Erik’s own rash decisions.

“I'm sure Raven has already warned you about my powers and their range. While it is true that telepathy is like sitting in a crowded café and attempting not to hear what other people are saying, I have exceptionally strong shields Erik. I promise Erik, you have to trust me, I have not exerted any influence on you as Charles.”

Oh.

Erik’s mind flickers back to a conversation with Raven. Granted, the woman had warned him about Charles' powers, but that is not the part of the conversation that he remembers. What Erik remembers clearly is Raven painting Charles as an outcast, and more so, what she’d said about Charles' insecurities.

This is how Charles is different from the Professor, Erik thinks. The Professor is the epitome of nurture and peace, but Charles is a nothing more than an insecure, people pleaser. There’s a clear division between the two personalities in Erik’s mind now.

Of course, the time when Raven had explained it to him, he hadn’t understood. However, with Charles in front of him, displaying his vulnerable side, not so willingly, Erik is beginning to understand what she had meant.

Charles' mutation is magnificent but also is curse for the man. Erik notices the visible distress of the baker before him and sighs himself. He doesn’t want to quarrel with Charles, but they were going to have to address these issues. He was going to help the man get over the insecurities.

Mutant and proud, Erik thinks fiercely, should apply to everyone, including Charles. No one deserves to be isolated unfairly because of his or her mutation. He hasn’t ever thought of this form of segregation among their kind.

Glancing up, he notices that Charles is watching him anxiously.

“Charles,” Erik says hoarsely. “That’s not the issue.”

The telepath looks confused and hesitant.

“Erik, I'm sorry,” Erik can practically see the man run through everything in his head, searching for something he’s done wrong. “I'm not su-“

“Charles,” Erik dismisses whatever Charles is saying. “The issue is not your power, but the fact that you hid your identity from me, and you’ve already explained that.”

“Then?” Charles asks resignedly. “Is this beyond repair?”

Erik can't understand how the man thinks everything is his fault. It’s disheartening how Charles takes all the blame for the incident. Erik knows what he’s done is more destructive to their friendship, but Charles' insecurities is keeping him from confronting this.

“I forgive you Charles. I understand why you hid from me. You weren’t just hiding from me, you were hiding from everybody who would have harmed you and cast you out Charles. Are we going to ignore what I’ve done?”

Charles stiffens.

“I was there Charles, when you were recovering from the initial incident of Shaw’s subordinate dying.” Erik points out. “I'm sure I’ve done considerably greater damage.”

For once, Erik thinks, their roles are reversing. Charles is the handicapped one here, unable to progress due to his insecurities, and Erik is the one coaxing him out of his walls. Erik knows that Charles is wary of him, but the man is unwilling to show it.

“I’ve already said enough about that, Erik.” Charles says slowly. “I understand why you did what you did. I’ve recovered, and I'm fine now.”

This he hadn’t predicted. If Charles is unable and unwilling to address the incident, Erik doesn’t know how he’s going to get over the pit of guilt writhing in his stomach. It’s unfair, Erik thinks, how Charles is avoiding the topic.

Even as he thinks this, Charles cringes.

Telepathy is turning out to look more like a burden.

He can understand why people think it as an invasion of privacy, more so why Raven had been extremely touchy about it. Charles can’t help but hear other people’s thoughts no matter how hard he tried.

“It doesn’t justify what I did to you, Charles.” Erik says. “I wasn’t thinking of you, I took the decision in anger and acted rashly.”

Emma would be proud of him for thinking before spoke for once, if she was here, Erik thinks. The relaxing of Charles' shoulder as he says this is enough for Erik.

“Shaw meant a lot to you,” Charles rebuffs his explanation. “You were going to kill him no matter what and I provided assistance in a nearly hopeless situation.”

Erik’s anger rises at this.

“There were other ways we could have handled it!” he snaps. There were other ways they could have killed Shaw, however, in order for that to have occurred, Erik would’ve had to have been thinking straight.

“Erik,” Charles' voice is quiet, and it reminds Erik of the moment when a deer stills and eyes its predator before nimbly slipping away. He knows this is not the way to go with the conversation. “I would very much not like to talk about it. You did harm me, but it was not intentional. You were distracted by Shaw, and made a rash decision. I would like to move past that Erik.”

“You can,” Erik grits out, slamming his hands on the table. “Damn it, Charles! How am I supposed to move past it?”

Charles' eyes slip closed.

“By being with me now Erik,” Charles states. “You’re running away from me because of the guilt Erik. I would very much like that to _not_ happen. I liked being friends and more, Erik, and I very much want to go back to that. I don't want this to tear us apart.”

“Tear us apart?” Erik scoffs. “It already has, Charles!”

“You see it that way, Erik. I, however, do not.” Charles is slumped in the chair, not watchful of him anymore, but more resigned than Erik has ever seen him. “You will tear us apart this way, Erik, more than what you have done. We need to move on from this.”

Erik chooses not to reply and glares instead at the peach galette sitting morosely on the plate. Moving on has never been easy for Erik, case in point, Shaw, and even Emma. He’s been able to let go of certain baggage and has carried them around with him for years. Charles wants him to move on. The headache pounds sharply against his forehead and Erik raises his hand to rub at it to try and appease it.

“May I?” Charles asks, hands rising to his forehead.

Erik nods, not caring what Charles could do to him. He just wants the headache gone. Within a few seconds, he feels the harsh throbbing recede, and a cool feeling spread across his forehead. He takes a deep breath, and relaxes into the couch.

The peach galette looks much more appetizing than ever. Stomach grumbling, Erik reaches for the last piece and bites into it. The peach pieces burst under the pressure of his teeth and the taste swathes his mouth like a tide, cottoned by the soft bread. The sweetness is relief from the conversation.

He flicks his eyes back to Charles, who is watching him.

“It’s delicious, Charles.” He says softly, as he finishes off the rest of the piece, and is immensely satisfied by the small smile gracing the telepath’s face.

“Thank you, Erik.” Charles murmurs, and shuffles back into the couch as well.

The silence settles comfortably between them as they sit comfortably. Erik watches as Charles' eyes close and the tiredness returns to the man’s face. As Charles sighs, and shifts around in the large brown couch, Erik cleans off the plate, devouring the smaller pieces left behind by Logan.

Erik knows that their talk hasn’t ended. Perhaps it will take weeks for them to come to any viable conclusion on how to move past this. With Charles refusing to address the incident with Shaw, and Erik himself refusing to move past it without talking it out, they might still carry this baggage with them into the future of their friendship.

Moving on is a foreign concept to Erik, but as he relishes the taste of the peaches covered in a thin layer of frangipane in his mouth, he realizes that this is what he wants. He wants the quiet, tranquil moments with Charles, when he doesn’t have a thing to worry about. If moving on was the key to repair his relationship with the telepath slash baker, he was going to have to move on from this. Other issues, such as the identity of the Professor and Charles' meddling with Genosha, they would address when the time came around. They would deal with things as they came.

That, Erik decides, is enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guiseeee, the only thing left is the epilogue!!!! Im so grateful to those of you who are still reading this fic! ❤ I'll specially thank my favorites in the next chapter :)) I can't believe it's really over 

_Tandoori Chicken and Butter Naan_

The café is bustling today, and not for the usual reasons. It’s a gathering to commemorate the ascension of Genosha as a powerful global construct, thanks to the work of the Cabinet and the café combined. While the country now has various mutant representations in global institutions (Hank McCoy), the café has also expanded (branches in the different sectors of the country). The café is decorated to the nines with various party materials courtesy of Raven.

The only thing that doesn’t fit in with the mood of the café is a one Erik Lensherr.

Erik is sulking, no doubt there. The bright lights and cheery music have absolutely no pull on the cloud of irritation raining down on him. No one else is really bothering with him, since they all know why he’s moping.

Charles' attention is not on him. The telepathic baker is more focused on setting up the café and putting out new desserts as a special treat for the party. Erik is supposed to be helping, but honestly, the only thing he’s done is fix a pipe leak in the kitchen. Not like he knows what he’s supposed to do in a café.

He’s currently moping at the back of the café. Slumping in his favorite couch, he’s currently making his way through a plate full of strawberry pavlovas. Leftovers, actually. Alex still isn’t on good terms with him, but Erik’s okay with it, since he gets all the desserts he wants. Erik flicks his eyes all over the café before trying to lick his thumb discreetly. Too good, Erik moans in his mind.

“Pig.” Someone snorts.

The butter knife he’d used to cut the pavlova flies straight for the voice.

“What the fuck tin can?”

Erik rolls his eyes and skims his fingers over the plate, collecting the powder on his fingertips, before licking them.

“Gross!”

“Another plate, if you please.” Erik orders calmly, disregarding the blonde’s comments completely. After all, the kid has to serve him. Customer policy and all that shit.

“What makes you think there’s more?” Alex huffs, taking the plate from the table.

“You look a little fatter than when you came to take my order,” Erik retorts, gulping down water to simmer down the taste of sweetness permeating his entire body. Overload, Erik thinks and winces. With every bite, he can taste the diabetes he’s surely going to get. “So I'm sure Charles has some more leftovers or trial food left for me.”

Alex grunts at this and stalks away. Erik has to admit, he’s impressed by the amount of control alex has over his temper these days. He needs a girl, Erik thinks and grins.

“Still here?” Storm asks him as she passes by him.

Erik rolls his eyes.

“Nowhere better to be when there’s free food here.”

“You’d better watch out then,” Storm warns him, taking the extra menus scattered on the tables. “Logan’s stomach can handle much more than yours.”

It’s always a competition with Logan, Erik bemoans. He can never escape the man.

“Sorry, tin can,” Alex calls out from the counter. “They’re over!”

He really hates that name, propagated courtesy of, you guessed it, Logan. He can't believe all the leftover desserts are over. Charles always makes two or three trial batches. Erik rises from his seat and makes his way over to Alex, who surprisingly, is still standing and staring him dead in the eye. Normally, approached like this in Erik’s classic threatening style, Alex would go and hide behind either storm or Hank.

“How is it over?” Erik growls, placing his palms firmly on the counter.

“Me.”

Oh good lord, the man’s here. Logan grins at him from behind the counter, holding the café’s signature brown paper bag. The wolverine’s hand is covered in white. Powdered sugar, Erik thinks and grits his teeth.

“You ate it all?” he snaps as he eyes the man stuffing another entire biscuit into his mouth. Erik seethes as Logan chows down on the biscuit, made with Charles' care and love. It’s not meant to be treated that way, he thinks, and pulls on the adamantium in Logan’s body.

Immediately, the man chokes on the biscuit. Erik chortles at this until Logan begins to clutch at his neck and his face begins to contort into one of pain. Concerned, not for Logan’s fate but his own, who knows what Charles would do to him if he found out Erik had been the reason Logan had died again, Erik leans in over the counter. Logan clutches at his throat frantically and coughs, but everyone can see that it’s futile.

“Are you choking?” Erik asks warily.

“No, no, this is the way a savage man eats.” Alex retorts while thumping Logan’s back. Not like its helping, seeing as how Logan is nearly bent double and hacking so hard Erik fears the man is going to spew out his lungs. He leans further over the counter, and stretches his hands, attempting to use his powers to force Logan’s body to ease the passage of the biscuit.

“Erik!”

His attention strays away from the two idiots and to the owner of the voice. Oh shit. Charles is standing in the back, taking off his mittens as he observes the entire thing. Erik knows exactly how this looks like.

“Be nice to Logan please,” Charles admonishes as he strides forward, wiping his hands on the horrifyingly magenta apron. Erik frowns as the action dirties the apron. “I have enough for everybody.”

“But Alex-“

Charles eyes him disapprovingly.

“You should know by now not to believe everything Alex tells you, Erik,” Charles says, placing a hand on Logan’s back to steady the man. Erik growls in his mind, his possessiveness rearing its ugly head. “Are you alright, Logan?”

Its irksome, the bond that Charles has with Logan and Hank. These two have been with Charles even before his time as the Professor, helped the man in various ways that Erik hasn’t even begun to understand. Not like anyone was telling him either. He just hates the way Charles and Logan are so fucking close. Too fucking close.

He eyes them in distaste. Logan has straightened up and is clutching onto Charles for support. Erik is sure his facial muscles are pulling together to form into a grotesque vision of jealousy. Tearing his eyes away from Charles and Logan cozying up to each other, he notices Alex smirking at him.

Fucking little brat, Erik thinks. They’d been planning this from the start. Logan, now nowhere near Charles, grins cockily at Erik. He really wants to strain the adamantium, but doesn’t want the two idiots to turn manipulate the situation.

“Erik!” Charles calls him as he walks back to the expansive kitchens. “Come and try some of the tandoori chicken and butter naan.”

He follows dutifully, after all, he’s not going to say no to free food. His teeth might start complaining soon if this is what he’s going to keep dumping into his stomach. Sugar rushes were highly underestimated, or whatever placebo effects took place, they made him act nothing like the intimidating murderous leader that he preferred to be painted as.

The kitchen is a swirling mass of aromas from the different dishes Charles has set out on the counters. It’s not messy at all, considering the amount of food Charles has produced. Erik can see some of his personal favorites; pavlovas, cakes and truffles. There are other dishes too, for dinner, but they remain the pots and pans, not yet plated.

Erik is quite fond of Westchester food, and lately, has become more familiar with the reserved dinner items as well. Charles only makes those for close family and friends, and more so on request. Erik had been informed earlier on that Logan and Charles were fond of having dinner together more often than not, so he’d made sure to request more dinner time with the baker. He wasn’t going to lose Charles to some uncultured animal who could probably give Charles rabies.

Storm passes them as they head further into the kitchen to the tables placed for the staff to eat and relax. Charles' money has really been used judicially, Erik thinks as he glances at the grandeur of the kitchens and the testing area beyond. She smiles at Charles and grabs the bowl of punch to place out in the main seating area, rearranged for the party. Seeing Erik, she sighs but nods before passing.

Charles prompts Erik to wash his hands and sit while he arranges a sample. As he watches the baker bustle around the kitchen, Erik realizes this peace is exactly what he had wanted a few months ago, when he and Charles had spoken for the first time at the café.

“Indian dinner items, specifically from North India. A favorite of mine, actually,” Charles says sheepishly, placing the plates in front of Erik. “Tandoori chicken, with a layer of pudina or mint chutney and butter naan.”

There are two plates set out in front of Erik and a third common one in the center of the table. The largest plate holds six chicken legs, arranged in a circle with all the juicy tips in the center. The chicken legs are a dark red, with dustings of black littered all over. The deep, darkest red glistens under the low light of the resting area. Covering the chicken in an artistically splattered pattern is the bright sap green of the chutney. In a smaller plate is the naan itself. Butter naan, roasted, catches the light and reflects it off due to its sheen, making its creamy color more alluring.

He reaches for the fork, but Charles stops him. He reaches for the lemon piece in the center plate and squeezes amply over the chicken legs in front of Erik.

“Hand, Erik,” the man says, clearly amused. “The Indians eat with their hands.”

Erik smile drops from his face as he realizes that the other man is serious. Charles waits patiently for Erik to try his new dish. Sighing, Erik reaches for the butter naan with his hand and after struggling for a bit, manages to tear a piece. He then eyes the chicken with trepidation. Meanwhile, Charles chuckles at him.

“Go on, Erik.” The baker encourages him.

The chicken piece is much easier to obtain, with the soft texture giving way to his fingers and tearing away gently, producing a white piece with a dark red lining. Wrapping the chicken part with the naan, Erik dips it in the bowl of extra chutney, before stuffing it as best as he can into his mouth.

It’s like nothing he’s ever had at the café.

The spices flowing into his mouth are strong. Contrasting but complimenting each other, like two opposing tides crashing together with force, but blending together as they recede. The naan is soft and fluffy in his mouth and gently gives way to the tandoori chicken, a completely different flavor. The red, rugged layer fills his mouth with the tang of the tandoori spices and the distinct lemony taste while the softer creamier insides bleed heavily over it, smoothening the flavor. The intense tandoori savor is harsh and coats his mouth with the flavor of the lemon and Indian herbs before bursting into the two distinct flavors that fight for dominance against his palate. As Erik swallows, the tanginess clings to his mouth, spreading in intensity and in spiciness.

Erik immediately searches for the water, only to find a glass of white liquid containing leaves. He really doesn’t care at this point, and downs the entire thing in one go, and is pleasantly surprised. The abnormally cool drink glides down his throat, sans the leaves, and whatever spices were present in it spikes the taste of the food before soothing his tongue.

“Too spicy for you?” Charles asks, bemused. “There’s a whole pitcher of the buttermilk left.”

Erik glares at the man.

Charles only laughs softly before leaning forward.

“How is it, Erik?” he asks softly, and Erik can sense the man is anxious.

“It’s delicious,” Erik croaks out. “It’s beyond normal levels of spicy, but I'm ready to eat the whole plate.”

This earns him a grin, and Erik secretly feels proud of himself. The dish is amazingly crafted and just explodes in his mouth, but really, Erik can't handle spice. Not one bit. This is, however, Charles' favorite dish, Erik thinks. Oh. Oh!

Grinning, Erik pushes the plate toward the other man.

“Have a piece,” Erik says, gesturing to the several chicken pieces decorating the plate. “This is after all, your favorite?”

“I can't touch it,” says Charles, amused, and raises his hands. “There’s much more work to be done. These are specifically for you, there’s more for me to eat later. They’re a tad spicy because Kitty helped out and she prefers it that way.”

There’s a pause and Erik can see that Charles is considering something.

“However, Erik,” here the man smiles at him and Erik knows something is coming. “I'm not entirely averse to the idea of you feeding me.”

It’s a struggle to keep his mouth from falling open. Erik looks at the food and then at Charles. Sneaky, he thinks in mind, no one is to be trusted. Crumpling in defeat, he begins to prepare a piece for the baker. As he dips the piece in the chutney, Erik realizes something. He’s going to be feeding Charles by hand. Admittedly, he’s heard of loving, romantic couples feeding each other soup and other dishes, but he’s never heard of feeding someone using his hand.

Whatever, Erik thinks, you’ve been moping for ages for Charles' attention and now that you have it, make judicial use of it. He’s going to do this. They both lean forward as Erik raises his hand.

Cupping the piece at the tip of his fingers, he slides it forward and into Charles' open mouth, fingers brushing the soft lips as he does so. Fuck, Erik thinks belatedly, bad idea. Charles takes the piece and lets his tongue brush against the fingers. Erik hastily makes a retreat.

Fuck.

“Thank you, Erik,” Charles says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll be back with you in a minute, Storm is in need of assistance, sorry.”

Erik can sense the smugness even as Charles walks out of the resting area. Shit fuck, he thinks hazily.

When he’s done eating, there’s only one chicken piece left and the other two plates are empty. He’s also finished an entire pitcher of buttermilk.

\---

More people shuffle in as they near lunchtime. Charles is fully occupied in the kitchen and Erik’s back to moping in the corner, playing around with the metal napkin holders to pass the time and also as a distraction from Logan and Alex. Cabinet members have started dropping and more food is being set out.

Erik eyes the counter hungrily. There’s enough food there to feed an army. Raven’s happily chatting with Hank and Erik can see Azazel’s anger manifesting physically as the man sips on his whiskey (courtesy of Logan, again). Young love, Erik thinks then winces as he remembers his own with Charles. Whoops.

“Erik!” Raven calls out as she makes her way over to him, carrying a covered tray.

Oh, free food. This is what makes waiting for Charles bearable. Raven deposits the tray in front of him and walks away. Munching on the cookies, Erik glances through the crowd that has assembled at the café.

Everyone here today for the lunch is part of both Charles and his family. There are new additions from the last few months, Sean Cassidy, Rogue, and a Jubilee. The Cabinet has assimilated well with the café members, who were all mostly part of the Professor’s armada. Erik can see the bond that all the members have, something his side had never valued. They all value Charles more than Erik’s Brotherhood members had, before and after the formation of Genosha.

The Cabinet had changed considerably since the Shaw Incident (no one could think of a better name), most strikingly in Emma’s absence. Charles and Emma had not gotten along at all. The showdown still gives Erik the chills. Emma had decided to retreat and do things by herself. Raven had immediately informed the other governments of her choice and then everyone had moved on from that.

“Sharing is caring,” Logan says as he snatches a cookie off the plate. “Someone didn’t learn.”

Erik rolls his eyes as pushes the tray to the center of the table as both Logan and the Cassidy brat take seats across from him. He’s not too fond of Sean to be honest. Combined with Alex, these two were a formidable force. Timed carefully between them both, or so Erik believes, they never to take a break from talking.

“Don't bother the man,” Scott Summers chides as he takes two cookies, one for him and the other for Jean. “I mean it, Logan. The party’s about to start.”

\---

It actually starts off slowly, people shuffling to the buffet table and chatting as they acquainted themselves with the rest of Charles' inner circle. Erik isn’t familiar with all of them yet. The current café and Cabinet members are the only ones he’s comfortable with. Rogue intimidates him for some reason, so he’s been avoiding her. He’s seen the woman control Logan so he’s been tip toeing around her.

Breaking from this train of thought, Erik notices Charles is weaving through the crowd, talking to everyone and drawing them in with his trademark charisma. Hank is, as always, hanging to every word the man is saying and watching with the trained eye of a doctor/scientist for any lapses and signs of relapse in Charles.

Sufficient to say, Charles has recovered. Ninety nine percent at least, Erik thinks. There are a few flashbacks and telepathic relapses in between, but with nearly everyone around equipped to deal with them, they’ve been making sufficient progress. It’s endearing to see Charles flutter around like the social butterfly that he is.

Charles, pausing in whatever he’s regaling Hank and Raven with, catches Erik’s eyes and smiles wide. The sight is endearing and Erik finds himself smiling back, abandoning the cookies as he rises to join Charles.

_I didn’t think you’d join me, Erik._

He grunts at this as he pushes through the people to grab hold of Charles. Smirking at an indignant Raven and stoic Hank, he drags Charles away. Or at least tries to.

“Hello, Professor.”

Rogue, Erik laments and freezes in his attempted kidnapping of Charles. She stands between him and freedom.

“I was wondering where the desserts are?” she asks and Erik can feel Charles pull away. Great, he huffs, as he watches Charles blush. Chance gone. Poof. Now he’s going to have to find something else to do until Charles is free again.

“Oh dear, I’d completely forgotten about those,” Charles admits sheepishly. Erik resists the urge to smother the adorable man even as Charles grabs Rogue’s hands and shakes them, eyes wide. “Give me just a moment, they’ll be right out.”

He wants to be frustrated that he isn’t getting time with Charles, but he knows how much this day means to Charles. The growth and progression of Genosha as a safe haven for mutants, and even for telepaths, Erik knows, is very dear to Charles.

“Lensherr,” Rogue calls out as they both watch Charles walk away. “Quit being a leech.”

Someone laughs uproariously at this. Erik is sure he knows who and he’s not pleased. He tries to disguise his snort as a cough and shifts away from Rogue.

“I am not being a leech.” He says as he watches Charles set up the trays of desserts. He really doesn’t want to be here right here, but at least there’s the benefit of watching Charles in his natural element. Baker suited the man more than the identity of the Professor.

This issue is one they still struggle with even now. He and Charles both have very conflicting ideas of how mutant kind should progress and how they should be represented. However, with the added interference of Logan and Storm, things were going much better. Granted they had bad days now and then, wherein Charles would camp out at Raven’s and refuse to talk to Erik and Erik himself would mope in all corners of the capitol, but they always reconciled. Reconciled in ways that left all their friends steering clear of their romantic sap for the subsequent few days, is more like it.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Rogue says shortly before striding off to join Bobby, who has been trying to catch her while for a while now. Erik sighs in relief as he watches her back retreat. Good, now he can focus more on Charles.

Turning his gaze back to the counter, his mood immediately plummets into the depths of hell as he sees Logan helping. The trays are metal, Erik seethes as he power walks to the counter, so really, it’s obvious who the better choice of a helper is.

“Shove off, bub.” Logan says calmly as he shifts a tray of cupcakes to the other side of the counter. Erik stops the man and the tray and then, concentrating, shifts all the other trays in line to their designated places.

“Oi!” Erik can tell the Wolverine is properly irritated now, judging by the pulsing veins all over the man’s face. Smirking, he grabs a muffin only and nearly gets it in his mouth before a chilling breeze stops him.

Sighing loudly, he places it back and crosses his arms.

“No.” Storm tells him and then turns to Logan. “More work out in the back.”

Erik furrows his brows at the exchange, confused. What’s going on now? Why doesn’t he know about it? Why isn’t he a part of it?

Logan, perhaps sensing Erik’s thoughts from the baffled expression he has on his face, sneers superiorly at him.

“Nothing to worry about, tin can. You do your thing.”

“What’s going on?” he demands, turning to Storm. Oh what the fuck, he thinks, as he sees not her face, but her back. Shifting his attention to the party, he focuses on Hank. He must know something, Erik thinks.

\---

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to meet Charles after this. There are times when Charles makes eye contact with him and sends messages of comfort. Charles is aware of how difficult it is for Erik to go through these gatherings. He’s made it so far only because of the mound of food and desserts at the counter.

It goes fine until Hank calls for everyone’s attention, and Erik stands watching. Everyone flocks to the center like sheep, shoving and pushing to get a good position. Erik simply decides to hover and rolls his eyes at Alex shoving through.

“Charles, if you please,” Hank says, and Raven pulls the puzzled baker into the center with them and to Erik’s great chagrin, Logan follows, grinning. The man is also holding a large box. “Erik.”

Stunned, Erik floats his way to the center.

“It’s been six months since the whole Shaw thing, where Erik really fu-”

“Alright Logan,” Hank cuts him off. “During the recovery time, we’ve managed to not only improve the conditions present within Genosha but also this country’s standing in the global level. Through the actions of Charles and Erik, we’ve made considerable progress.”

Vigorous applause breaks the speech and Erik is surprised to see people beam at him from within the crowd. It’s pleasant to think that people here are so fond of him.

_Why wouldn’t they be?_

_I haven’t been the world’s greatest lover,_ Erik admits within the confines of his mind, _and I haven’t been even remotely good for you, Charles, or anyone else, really._

_I think that you can see that’s clearly changed, Erik._

Charles is watching him with fond eyes and erik can think of nothing else but how calm their life is at the moment. This is something the old him would have never imagined having.

“If you two can please pay attention,” Hank sighs, drawing them both out of their little moment. He gestures for Logan to step forward. Erik purses his lips and waits. “There’s something everybody has been helping me put together. Not the final thing, that’s going to take a while.”

Glancing at Charles, Erik takes note that the younger man is beaming widely at his protégé and frowns at not knowing.

“Hank,” Charles admonishes. “You didn’t-“

“Shut up, Charles,” Raven rolls her eyes. “Just say thanks.”

“Why, of course. Thank you Hank.” Charles says softly, reaching out to clasp Hank’s hand and drawn him in a hug. “Thank you to everyone who helped. Alex, Sean, Kitty, Storm and Logan.”

Erik lets a low breath.

“What exactly are you thanking them for?” he asks the abashed baker, who’s eyes immediately widen.

“Oh, Erik, they’ve built us a new Cerebro, you see,” Charles says enthusiastically. “Brilliant idea, really, and there are additions to the café as well! The box has all the blueprints and the kids have all put in their two cents. Hank can work wonders when he wants to, and he’s outdone himself on this!”

Oh.

Cerebro. Everyone in the café and in the Cabinet knows what it is. It’s the doohickey Charles and Hank use to locate all the mutants and bring them safely to Genosha, if the mutant wished to come. After the Shaw Incident, Charles had faced some problems while using it and the whole recruiting process had slowed for a while with only Jean reaching out and not being able to control her powers; they’d grown ever slower.

“Jean and Hank put their minds together to come up with this new version, and Erik, apparently it doesn’t have the side effects the initial one had,” Charles pauses and muses. “I'm going to miss that old head contraption.”

Erik hates that thing, it makes Charles look like a lab rat and the first time he’d seen the man in it, he’d made sure to point it out. Since then, he’s grown used to it, but he still prefers that Charles not stretch his powers to the limit. So, he’s sort of glad for this sort of present. It doesn’t escape his notice that it’s mainly for Charles.

 _That, Erik, is because they know how much you hate the current one,_ Charles says, _this is supposed to ease my healing._

 It hits Erik then.

_Do you understand, Erik? They’re did it so as to not hinder my recovery and to alleviate your guilt. They’re trying to help us without interfering too much._

The kids were trying to help Erik and Charles patch up. Erik hates to admit it, but he has a suspicion that the feeling welling up inside him is fondness for the other café and Cabinet members.

_Erik._

He turns back to Charles, and notices the baker smiling softly at him. Grinning in return, he drags Charles closer and molds the smaller man to his side. Charles snuggles into Erik’s newly trademark turtleneck casual attire (the whole Magneto get up is reserved for more serious occasions), and Erik tightens his grip on the man. Charles tugs on his sleeve and Erik looks down.

_D’you think they’ll mind if we skip out early?_

_I think not,_ Erik sends back as they both begin to make their way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to do a crack merman Charles AU. Been planning that for ages and just finished working out the entire plot lol and its possibly going up in a few weeks if i decide to do it! Let me know your opinions on that! Also planning out a hannigram fic :)))))
> 
> My Superbat one shot idea sort of fizzed out :(((


	14. Chapter 14

_Candy Hearts_

 

“No, Charles!” Erik whined.

“Yes, Charles!” Raven snaps at him, sneering as she passes them both.

“Erik,” Charles reprimands. “How on earth will the café run without me?”

“It runs damn fine!”

Erik winces. He can hear his voice getting shriller and more frantic. Charles isn’t so pleased with him right now. All the café members had voted earlier on about a Valentine’s Day party and apparently, Charles is pivotal in making it happen. Erik thinks everyone can do without.

“Don't be childish, Erik,” Charles frowns at him and Erik lets out a ragged sigh of exasperation. “We’re all going to enjoy ourselves immensely, there’s a wide range of activities scheduled.”

“They’re not going to leave us alone,” Erik grits out. “Charles, this is a Valentine’s Day!”

Charles turns to him and creates the best puppy eyes Erik’s ever seen.

“Don't you love everybody in the family, Erik?” 

Erik’s jaw twitches painfully at the blatant emotional manipulation, but he concedes. Not that he can fight back much against Raven, and with the added blackmail from the kids, there’s no way Charles is going to change his mind. He huffs and nods his head. Raven grins in victory from behind Charles.

“Help us set up,” she says, pointing to the holders and candle holders littering the cardboard boxes scattered on the floor. Erik thinks the decorations are over the top, but floats them away as directed. “The mood is going to be super romantic!”

She giggles as Hank coughs in misery.

Well, thinks Erik, at least he’s not the only one who’s going to be suffering tonight. He’s sure Hank had been looking forward to some alone time today too.

“Be nice to Alex today, Erik,” Charles reminds him from the counter. “Alex’s potential girlfriend is coming. Please don't do something I wouldn’t do.”

Rolling his eyes, Erik sets the candlesticks down in the center of the small round tables they’ve set up in the café for today. There are vases too, different tables holding white and red roses, courtesy of some mutant Charles had found recently   
with a green thumb, literally. Erik is reluctant to admit it, but this really is getting him in the mood. Not the stupid red hearts floating everywhere, but seeing Charles mothering over people, has him thinking about settling down with the man.

“Can I get something to eat? I'm starved.”

Seething at the sound of the voice, Erik sends a candlestick hurtling Logan’s way, only to have the man swat it out of the air.

“Eat somewhere else,” Erik says promptly. “Charles is busy.”

“Pftt, I'm sure he has something for me,” Logan grins. “In fact, I'm sure he has my favorite biscuits.”

“The others are going to be here soon, Erik,” Charles calls out again, motioning for Logan to follow him inside. “Behave please.”

Grumbling, Erik finishes his set up work and heads to the back of the café to sit in wait for the other café and Cabinet members to arrive. There’s no telling whom all Charles has invited, not to mention that the café family has expanded   
exponentially over the past year. There’s more people than ever in their little hub.

The loud dingle of the café doors opening has him looking him from his metal work with a spare spoon. Squinting at the entrance, darkened by the night outside, he can barely make it out who it is until he notices the shock of auburn curly hair. Cassidy and his gang.

Angel, Cassidy, Darwin and Alex. Plus, there’s the addition of the potential girlfriend whom he’s going to be meeting today. The squabble of teens move toward the counter and not towards him thankfully. He’s going to try to avoid that group.

The others pile in after that, coming in large and small but rambunctious groups as the come to greet Charles on this day. The café’s been closed down for this party, as it is every year. Erik doesn’t see why they can't take one year off to   
celebrate it peacefully and quietly by themselves.

“Not joining the festivities?”

Startling in his comfy swiveling bar stool, he turns around and comes face to face with Hank. Snickering in his mind, Erik motions for the man to join him and Hank immediately slumps on the empty seat.

“Why does she have to throw a party every single time?” Hank complains as he leans back and watches the people dancing outside the café, in the garden area, which has been lit up especially for today night.

“Ask Charles why he decides to personally cook everything with the café staff every single time.” Erik shoots back. He waves to Storm, who’s familiar with both of their regular order.

“Is this an Xavier thing?” Hank looks at Erik pointedly. “Did she get it from him?”

“Both of them are always hyper about this,” storm says, handing them their drinks. “You should just wait for the party to simmer down.”

Erik raises his eyebrows so far up he thinks they might’ve disappeared into his hairline altogether.

“Last year was,” she sighs. “That, well, I can't really say anything about it.”

A shout draws Storm’s attention away and she shrugs at Erik before leaving him and Hank to their talk. Erik doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to watch Charles bustle around morosely. Last year had been shameful, Valentine’s Day had been reduced to a day of work, and a tired night for Charles and Erik had been too drunk to care.

Over at the other corner, he can see Alex and his girlfriend talking. The girl, Abby, apparently could turn invisible, and she was the quiet type. God, Erik thinks, how can she even stand the kid. But then again, he reminds himself, Charles can   
stand you, so you can't talk.

Downing the whiskey, Erik groans loudly, but the sound blends into the loud lovey-dovey music.

\---

As the party progresses, three groups of people splinter from the larger mass. About this, Erik is glad. What he’s not glad about is that one of these three groups is the loud couples-in-love singing and dancing while nearly dead drunk. The others have occupied the tables. The third group, singles, have taken over the food counter and the bar.

While not single, Erik is sitting in the same spot at the bar at the corner of the café. Charles is nowhere to be found and the party is simmering down. He only hopes Raven hasn’t kidnapped the man for something else that she’s planned for the party.

There’s a group of surprisingly single people surrounding him. Logan, Sean, and Moira are squished close together with him. He’s been tolerating the smelly wolf for a while now. If he still had access to the Genoshan treasury, he’d install a bathing system so fabulous in Logan’s apartment that the man wouldn’t miss a single bath.

“Where’s Chuck?” Logan grunts, shot of whiskey disappearing down his mouth.

“Fuck if I know.” Erik replies, dropping his head down into his arms.

“Sad day for you,” Moira chuckles. “Charles is busy busy with everybody else.”

“And I wonder, who’s loving you,” Sean sings and Erik can feel his ears start to bleed. “Wonderr.”

Logan grins at Erik and raises another shot glass.

“You wonder,” the man chortles out. “Who’s loving youuu!”

Moira bursts out laughing, smacking Erik on the shoulder.

“Pining club is where you belong,” she remarks. “One Charles coming up, whoops, we’re out sorry.”

Logan laughs only for a second before choking and smacking the table to relay his approval.

“I sit around, with my head hangin’ down!” Sean screeches and Logan, recovered from his choking bout, sings along with him.

Erik can feel his ears burning with embarrassment, but strives to show that he’s not fazed, and sips his fourth whiskey of the night.

There are couples behind them who are probably cringing in pity for poor abandoned Magneto, but Erik’s going to show them that he’s not down in the dumps. Finishing off his glass, he staggers to his feet and joins the three, belting down the   
lyrics with the Jackson 5.

\---

“Really, Erik.” Charles whines as he watches the man stagger to a couch and plop down. Much like last year, his lover is beyond coherence and Charles is not at all pleased. If only the man would learn some patience. Charles thinks of the little   
surprise hidden in his bedside drawer back home. If only, he sighs, and makes his way to Erik.

Like last year, Charles knows that Erik is going to forget whatever happens tonight. Frustrated just a teensy bit, he settles down next to Erik, who is still humming to a familiar tune that Charles knows is Sean’s favorite.

Shrugging, he shifts further into Erik’s turtleneck, attempting to arouse Erik’s drive of cuddling. When the arms automatically wrap around him, he chuckles in satisfaction. Leaning back against the well-defined chest muscles and within the confines of strong, sinewy arms, Charles relaxes.

“Hnn,” Erik nuzzles into Charles hair. “Charles.”

A smile breaks on out Charles' face, fond and abashed. The metallokinetic is adorable in many ways, Charles thinks, more so when he’s drunk.

Erik’s hand, tucked around his shoulder, finds its way to Charles' own and intertwines their fingers. Blushing furiously, Charles stares at the ground in triumph.

“Happy Valentine’s.” Erik murmurs, voice even more baritone and husky from the belting he’s done. The whiskey tainted breath fills around Charles, but really, he doesn’t care, not when Erik’s like this. Charles leans up and pecks Erik’ cheek in   
reply.

Just as he’s withdrawing to go back to cuddling, Erik’s other free hand cups his face.

Well, Charles thinks absentmindedly, this is new.

The thumb on his cheek draws sloppy light circles, and Erik sighs before nearly bashing their foreheads together. Charles winces at the impact, but Erik is affected at all, and only continues to stare at Charles.

“Charles,” Erik murmurs, and Charles thinks the man is going to kiss him. Erik leans in further, brushing their lips together. “Fuck Charles.”

What, thinks Charles.

“Fuck.”

Charles frowns. He can't understand what Erik’s trying to say. He reaches inside Erik’s mind to talk to the man, and immediately freezes up at what he meets.

It’s unmistakable, what’s he’s seeing. Charles is stunned at the images inside Erik’s side. The emotion runs over him like a wave, powerful and battering. Blinking at the intensity of it, Charles withdraws, stunned.

“Charles.” Erik says, eyes now closed.

Charles can't reply, not when he’s still in shock. Well, he thinks weakly, I don't have to worry about Magneto terrorizing people anymore. That’s an advantage, he reminds himself as Erik pulls him back and they both slump in the couch.

Eyes flickering all over the café to try to calm himself down, Charles notices Raven gaping at him.

_He proposed?_

Charles purses his lips.

_Really, Raven?_

_Then what’s the deal,_ she demands, eyes blazing from across the café, _tell me now Charles or I wake up tin can over there._

Charles pales at the thought and tries to think of a way to tell Raven exactly how Erik felt about him. He hadn’t been expecting this really, Charles is well aware that Erik is not the type of man to settle down.

_Erik, er, has strong feelings for me?_

_You didn’t know that?_

She’s rolling her eyes at him now. Charles frowns right back and she sticks her tongue out.

_Really, Charles. You two are blind._

Before he can protest, she asks for the mental bond to be cut off, and he recedes from her mind. This is after all, his favorite part, the smothering. Erik has wrapped all his limbs around Charles. He feels like he’s sinking into a bean bag named Erik.

Relaxing into the embrace, Charles is expecting a peaceful night of cuddling with Erik. He’s not at all expecting a shower of candy hearts. They rain down on the couch, pelting both Erik and himself. Squawking in indignation, Charles attempts   
to swat away the never ending rain of pastel colored hearts. Erik groans and rises, dragging Charles with him.

Before he’s dragged away to a new spot, or even home, Charles picks up a pink candy heart.

_A-O-K_

Popping the candy in his mouth, Charles thinks, better than that actually.

\---

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "Westchester Café"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746596) by [Monikitaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monikitaa/pseuds/Monikitaa)




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